Fairy Tale Trash
by Wonk
Summary: So, I live in a trailer park. With fairies, pigs, wolves, a stupid rhyming mirror, and a danged amount of sheep. It gets a little clausterphobic, but that's what a prince is for!
1. Moving In

**

READ!

**

Um…if you live in a trailer and/or trailer park and fit the stereotype…you probably don't want to read this if you're easily offended. I know that people really aren't like that. I just needed something to work off. No offense meant to anyone! No flames.

Fairy Tale Trash

_By Wonk_

Chapter One

The box was chafing me, and I was getting a headache. The road smelled of a mix of bus fumes and magic dust, and a nice smog was lingering around the roadside and sweeping through the inner city's pathetic excuse for trees. 

I had walked the three miles from the bus stop to…this. Yes, I had been expecting bad. From most of the trailer parks I've been to, I'd found the people to be quite respectable, but in various states of income and not always had the good fortune to be well on their feet. I had been expecting something like that. But I had not been expecting hell.

Numerous MagiPizza boxes littered the front drive, leaving a steady trail into the "park". I sighed and kicked one along, pushing my way through the purplish fog into my new residence. I finally broke into the living area and immediately thought "This totally wasn't worth the three miles." The air smelled of manure, booze, and trash, and the sounds consisted of the howling of wolves, the quiet bleating of sheep, high-pitched laughs, and the numerous twangs of wands doing their business.

The full moon, the size of a silver dollar, beamed down into the numerous trailers, illuminating the aluminum siding and gleaming off of the dirty windows. The road had turned into a dirt path that wove throughout the homes, and was dotted with litter and purple glitter.

Why didn't I just get an apartment?

Oh yes, there was I…the starving artist/musician that carried nothing but a guitar and a few pennies in her pocket. Now I had found a new home next to: fairies that had lost their butts in the stock market and gone a little crazy in the process, a wolf with expensive hospital bills for triple-bypass surgery, and the last little pig that had found that his brick house had to be repossessed for his failure to pay property taxes. 

A rusting metal sign, that looked as it was held together only by faulty magic (undoubtedly), read "Welcome to Fairyland."

"Thanks," I muttered as I walked past. It glowed a bright blue and returned to its normal color. 

I reached my own mobile home, one that looked like all the others except for the sheep spray-painted in neon blue on its side, and I fumbled for the key inside my pocket.

"Oh crap…" I dropped the box and dug further. It wasn't there! I next searched through my coat pockets, and then rummaged through my box. But it was nowhere to be seen. 

I would have to go to the manager's office. Just what I needed, some drunk jerk on the phone with a "special" hotline, while goggling at me while I asked for the key. I knew I wasn't the most attractive person in the world, but I was a woman. That was sometimes all that people needed to know to be attracted to them. Sometimes even that seems like a high standard. Ugh…

I left my box on the porch and walked back down the steps, a cloud of dust flying around my old sneakers as I stepped foot back on the dirt road. My hands stuffed in my pockets and my shoulders hunched, I followed the glowing fairy lights, which spelled out "Mr. Charming's Office - Manager" somewhere ahead.

I sighed. "Stupid parents…can't even support their only child…"

I approached the mobile home, sided in painted wood and quite a bit nicer than the others, and knocked rapidly on the door. It kind of echoed a bit, and I realized that it had grown quiet. I waited for a moment.

"Come in," a man's voice said from inside. The door automatically swung open without a sound.

I stepped inside and was a bit taken aback. Yes, Mr. Charming wasn't exactly what I expected. He sat behind a magnificent dark wood desk, stacked with papers that glowed in changing fluorescent colors, stopping the metamorphosis every few seconds to make various rude noises. Confiscated wands hung in plastic bags off a pegboard positioned on the wall behind his desk, vibrating slightly, as though angry. The office smelled vaguely of melted plastic, and I noticed that the bags holding the wands had been charred somewhat where the tips met, where the wands had been apparently trying to get themselves out. The ghost of a water spot lingered on the floor underneath, evidence that Mr. Charming had taken care to put the fire out when it began. My eyes fell back to his desk, where a bronze plaque read Mr. Prinze A. Charming.

But the office was nothing compared to the young, handsome and probably rich (just to be well rounded) man sitting behind the desk in hunting uniform, his legs propped up unceremoniously on the keyboard pullout tray. He was tall and athletic, with broad shoulders, a finely shaped jaw, and a fine head of wavy chestnut hair. His hazel eyes sparkled as he smiled at me and motioned me to sit down.

What's a fairy tale…even in a trailer park…without its Prinze?

He put his legs down and straightened his spine, turning to face me, hands collapsed together and sitting on the desk. 

Well, my first impression was that he certainly was…charming.

"My new tenant?" he asked. His voice was deep and rich, but relaxed.

I nodded, not quite able to find my voice. I couldn't help realizing that I no longer cared if I was looked at like a piece of meat by this man, ruefully, I was even thinking that that would be an accomplishment. 

He nodded at me encouragingly. It took me a few moments before realizing that he was waiting for me to state why I was here.

"Uh…oh." My voice cracked and my face was beginning to feel hot. "I seem to have misplaced my key." I blushed furiously, knowing that I wasn't making a very good first impression.

Sure enough, he rolled his eyes as he turned and began to rummage through one of his desk drawers. 

"I'm sorry," I pleaded, "I don't usually lose things…"

"No, no, it's not you," he said quickly, emerging from the drawer and flinging a bronze key across the desk. Attached to the key ring was a tag with my name scrawled across it.

"You're Gwen, right?" he added, sighing.

"Um…yeah." I hadn't wanted to cause him trouble.

"No, it's not you," he said again. "It's those damn fairies. They like to make the new female tenants' keys…disappear."

I heard a faint giggle behind be and turned just in time to see a purple glow fade from the window, the curtains waver a bit.

"I think they're jealous," he continued. "Or they went mad somewhere between Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella."

I nodded silently, and he carried on.

"I keep threatening to evict them, and they keep threatening to turn me into a frog. I don't really have a choice," he said with a sarcastic grin. "I wouldn't enjoy the amphibian lifestyle. I'm not a big fan of water." 

"Yeah…" I replied, still a bit astonished in the slight fortune I've had with at least getting a good looking landlord in a hell hole like this. "Um…I guess I'll go settle down now."

"All right." Mr. Charming climbed to his feet. He was a good seven inches taller than I, which is a feat since I'm rather tall for a girl. "I'll go with you to make sure you don't cause any trouble with the neighbors."

"All right, thanks." I swallowed and got to my feet; he held the door open for me and followed me back to the trailer where my stuff remained untouched. 

"You play the guitar?" he asked, staring fixedly at my beaten, duct taped guitar case. One of my theories: duct tape was the tool of the gods. I used it on anything. 

I nodded. "Kind of a dead-end career. I live up to the term "starving artist" well."

He didn't pay attention to what I had said. "I love the guitar. I used to play until I was "blessed" with the gift of every instrument I ever attempt to play to turn into a flute." He rolled his eyes. "I play a mean rock concerto."

I laughed. "That must suck."

He stared down at the case; I could tell that he was desperate to play again.

"Tell you what," he said suddenly. "How about you come over to my office every Friday and play for me, and I'll give you a dock off of your rent."

I was astounded at this second stroke of fortune. I didn't know what to say. 

Erm…how about yes?

"That would be great," I said finally.

He broke into a smile. "Thanks a lot. I can't even play CD's here; the magic screws up the magnetic fields. You'll notice, if you have any fridge magnets, they'll prefer to stick to the walls rather than the refrigerator itself."

"Thanks for the warning." Crap, I'd miss my music.

"Night, Gwen," he said, shaking my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," I replied, shaking eagerly. His handshake was firm. "Thanks for the help."

"That's my job!" He jumped down from the porch and ran off to one of the other trailers, where thick blue smoke was billowing out of the doors and windows.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Hey! You can't do…"

A small, undamaging explosion interrupted him mid-yell. I laughed a bit and turned to my door. I turned the key in the lock…and it opened! I breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately thought that the place wan't too bad. It was covered in a thick coat of glittering dust, and the air smelled sickeningly heavy of roses, but it would definitely do.

I dropped the box on the floor inside the entryway, rousing a cloud of purple glitter up from the beige carpet. I coughed and waved my hand in the air, clutching my guitar tightly in my left hand.

All the furniture was navy blue, the kitchen decorated with tiles and appliances of the same color. The walls had been painted a deep red. From a glimpse through the doorway, I saw a heavily draped four-poster hung with burgundy curtains. The colors were a little too dark for my taste, but at least it was furnished.

"Hello, my dear," a man's voice said out of thin air. "Be assured you have not to fear."

I dropped my guitar with a dull thud on the ground and spun around, expecting to see Mr. Charming standing in the doorway, his athletic frame leaning against the doorpost, smiling at me, but the door had closed with a soft slick behind me, and no one was there. I peaked into the bedroom, but no one was hidden in the heavy velvet. The shower and hallway closet were also vacated.

I went back into the living room, shoved my hands into my pockets, and looked up at the ceiling.

"All right, what and where are you?"

"Over here, little dear."

I spun to my left and noticed that there hung a silver framed mirror, where an expressionless theater mask floated, shrouded in a thick white mist.

"Eh?"

It cocked its smooth white eyebrow, and prompted me anxiously. "Mirror, mirror on the wall…"

"Look, I said impatiently, approaching it with my hands outstretched, ready to tear it off its hook. "I've had a really long day, and I'm quite sick of magic, there…"

"Who's the fairest of them all?" The mask frowned, dissatisfied and obviously annoyed, and added through clenched teeth. "_You're throwing off my rhyme._"

I grasped the edges and tried to pry the mirror off the wall, but it didn't budge.

"You're trying my patience," it whined. "And um…crap." It's deep rumbling voice was pensive. "What's a rhyme for patience?"

I sighed and let go of the frame, then crouched by my cardboard box in search of my pajamas. "I'm going to bed," I grumbled, starting to walk toward my new room.

"Good night, sleepy head!" It called cheerily after me. I groaned and slammed my bedroom door shut.

My bedroom, with its heavy canopy bed and thick beige carpet that muffled each footstep, was quite grand for a trailer park. I took this as a hopeful sign that life here wouldn't be so bad.

I just hoped, that through the fairy dust, I could live like a normal human being.

Huh, fat chance of that happening.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please review, and no flames. 


	2. Cleaning Up

**Chapter Two**

I didn't bother to shower the next day, I wasn't so trusting of it yet anyway, so instead I dressed in my ragged clothes - cut-off's and an old tank top - and began to clean.

I found a vacuum in the hall closet and that succeeded in sucking up the glitter from the carpet quite nicely.

"You missed a spot," the mirror groaned. "Please don't let my carpet rot."

"Shut up," I mumbled, quietly obliging and doubling back to the blasted spot.

Things got even more annoying when I began to dust the counters and furniture. I had my handy dandy duster I'd owned since my first year of college, and I'd refused to give it up since. It always worked wonders. That was, until now.

I swiped at the bluish-purple dust with the furry stick, surprised to see that it hadn't budged. I ran over it once more. Nothing. I grumbled in frustration and went over it again. This time, instead of the thick coat of grainy powder, it formed words in fancy, flourishing scroll.

_Fairy Wands_

The only dusters that can truly  
Work magic!  
Sold across the street for only   
$9.99!  
Get yours today! 

I glared at the words for a moment, then, as if it sensed that I was done reading, the writing unfurled back into a steady layer of undisturbed dust.

"I'm not enjoying this," I commented, staring angrily at the misty mirror.

The mask smiled sarcastically, but said nothing.

I sighed and flung the old duster down on the couch in surrender. "All right, I'm going."

The dust formed a smiley face, and melted away almost as quickly as it appeared.

"But I'm not even going to try the shower until Mr. Charming comes to inspect it," I told no one in particular. "I don't want to know what it will cover me in the moment I step inside."

"You have a crush on him, don't you?" the mirror said, smiling smugly.

"You're not rhyming," I shot back with another glare, plainly annoyed.

"It gets tiresome," it replied. "My rhymes are crap, anyway."

"Here, here," I muttered, toasting him with an imaginary glass. "And by the way," I added, turning away. "I don't even _know_ him." I hurried out the door, slamming it after catching a few light chuckles of a piece of glass's ignorance.

Mirrors don't know anything, I thought. And he was right - his rhymes were crap.

§

The fairies' trailer laid thick in smoke of all colors I thought possible, and even some I didn't, from yellow to puce to indigo. I coughed as I was allowed entrance by an elderly, stout, and mischievous looking fairy dressed completely in magenta. 

"I need a wand," I said quickly, trying to save the precious air harbored in my lungs.

A small explosion answered me, accompanied by a thick plume of baby pink smog.

"Just experiments, dear, experiments," the stout fairy assured me, her chubby hand resting on my arm, shining a rosy pink. Her irises were a soft burgundy; her hair fell in heavy scarlet curls around her wrinkling face. She would have seemed like a good natured grandmother, except for the spark in the flaming eyes, the hint of mockery thickly hidden behind her voice, and the crooked grin that played across her lips.

Her rosy hand grasped mine and she led me into the living room, where I held my breath, my chest becoming sore from the effort. The smoke was so thick that I couldn't even see the walls, the furniture was covered with pillows of it, and the only way I could see the other two fairies was because their bright clothing put out a permanent glow of blue and green. They were both prodding various things with their wands, including an old sausage, some sort of blobs that looked alive, a plastic cat toy, and a large brick of cheddar cheese.

"Breakfast," the red fairy explained as she pushed me out of the living room and into what I thought had been a wall but turned out to be a doorway. So much for ever being able to find my way out of a fire. The room she had pushed me into was completely free of smoke, smog, and odd smells, even though the door was wide open. The smoke loomed outside like it was pressing against an invisible window, and I watched it with contempt. 

"Over here, dear." The fairy dragged me by the shoulder over to the opposite wall, where boxes and boxes marked with "WANDS" were piled to the ceiling. Her hand made a little wiggling motion, and something flew into her hand. Before I could see it, she pressed it into mine. I stared down at it; eyebrows furrowed, and weighed it in my palm. It was a white stick, about as thin as a piece of yarn and as light as a sheet of paper. It twisted around my index finger, almost lovingly, then went back to its straight, rigid form and stayed that way.

"Urm…all right." I said, grasping the end with my index finger and thumb. "It's a…wand." 

"It's really all-purpose," the fairy explained cheerily. "But we only sell them for cleaning." A piece of paper suddenly appeared in my left hand. "Those are the instructions on proper use. If you have any problems, you won't be able to find us."

The room suddenly disappeared, and I found that I was standing on my front porch, staring at the door. The bright sun gleamed heavily off of the shiny doorknob and the dirty windows; the aluminum siding absorbed it, only giving off a sort of gray glow. I blinked dully. The wand was still in my hand; the instruction sheet wound snuggly around it.

I realized I hadn't paid. I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket and ruffled through it - the ten-dollar bill I had meant to give her was gone, and in its place was a single penny. I wasn't comfortable with the fairies having easy access to my wallet, but what was done was done. At least they hadn't taken anything else…that I could see anyway.

I reentered my trailer and sat down on the couch, leaning back and taking a deep breath. 

"Mr. Charming isn't going to be too happy," the mirror said from its home on the wall. 

I opened my eyes and tilted my head to stare at him, my light brown hair unfurling in a light frizz around my face. I really needed to take a shower sometime soon. "Why?"

Its lips pursed, and I realized that he refusing to answer me.

"_Why_?" I demanded.

The mask just chuckled and disappeared. I sighed, then, grasping the wand, I got up from the couch with a groan and decided to go to work.

The wand worked quite well: within minutes every speck of dust had disappeared, the windows were sparkling like new, and every bit of rust from the doorknobs and the windowsills had faded away. Following the instructions to get rid of obnoxious odors, the nauseating rose smell dissipated, replaced with a scent that could only be explained by the term "lemon fresh". 

I collapsed back on the couch, dropping the wand beside me, somehow exhausted from just a few minutes effort. The house was clean, my work was done - besides putting things away. That task still loomed before me; I had no spell for putting various things in their places. I grumbled in dissatisfaction and got back off the couch, grabbing the box roughly and stomping off into my room.

The closet was located in the wall just a few feet away from my bed, about five feet wide and I wasn't sure how deep, as I hadn't yet opened it. I did so, only to be greeted by a loud bleating.

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I automatically slammed the closet door shut, wide eyed. What the hell…

I opened it again, and stared down at the closet floor. There stood a small sheep, it's wool snow white, its skin black, staring up at me with big, blank eyes. I stared back down at it, and it wagged its tail, blinking dumbly.

Why was there a sheep in my closet?

I kneeled down and shoved the sheep gently out of my way, looking past it so I could see further down. The closet wasn't that deep, only about two and one half feet, but beside the animal sat a dish, full of food and water in separated compartments, and a soft dog bed.

"Baaaaaaa…"

"Shush," I said impatiently, searching under the bed, underneath the sheep, beneath the dish, for some sort of explanation on why livestock was living behind a door in my bedroom. Alas, I found nothing.

I sighed and stared at the little animal, "What am I going to do with you?"

Wag…wag…wag…

"Urgh, come on." I tried to pick the sheep up, but it was surprisingly heavy for such a small animal. With an exhausted sigh, I sunk to the ground and leaned back to my bed. It trotted to my side and butted my outstretched hand gently with its head.

"You're weird," I said under my breath, stroking the wool thoughtfully, and then I smiled in spite of myself. "But I have to admit you're cute."

"Baaaa."

"Yeah, you heard me." 

So I had a new pet, it really wasn't that bad. I found a litter box underneath the kitchen sink, and to my great surprise and relief, the sheep was housebroken. Using a spell on the instruction sheet, I found that I could clean the box without getting my hands dirty. Things were shaping up quite well.

In addition, I was greatly excited by another spell that was typed in very small letters at the end of the paper, it was a self-cleaning spell. It looked like I wouldn't have to use the shower after all.

A little nervous, I never really thought about putting a spell on myself, I tapped the wand lightly on the top of my head. An odd feeling, like my skin melting into warm water, flowed down my head, my neck, and my shoulders, past my waist and legs and down to my toes. My cut-offs had become shorter, the bottoms hemmed, and my old tank top looked new. My hair was silky and laid perfectly across my face, and with a glance in the mirror, I found that the zit that had randomly decided to sprout on my nose this morning had vanished. 

Thank you, fairies.

Before I had enough time to ooh and ah over my finding, the doorbell rang.

"Guess who that is?" the mirror threw out as I walked past. "I'd put that wand away if I were you."

No matter how much I despised him, I decided that there might be some common sense behind his words. I quickly opened the drawer in the coffee table, threw the wand in, and slammed it shut. The doorbell rang again.

I quickly ran my fingers through my silky hair and opened the door. Mr. Charming stood there, smile lop-sided, a piece of deep brown hair falling in front of his eyes.

Oooooh boy. 

"Hey, Gwen," he said, with his cool, business like air. "I see you got the shower to work."

"Shower?" my voice cracked, and I coughed. "Oh…shower…right. Yeah, I did."

"That's great."

I stepped back from the door and beckoned him to come in. I didn't have any idea of what he wanted. 

I cleared my throat again. "Um…"

"You want to come to my office and play for a bit?" he asked, still standing on the doorstep. "I'm doing paperwork and I could really use the music."

My heart was starting to flutter. The only words that could run through my mind were "You're a god." I didn't think that would make a very good impression, nor were those the words he would exactly want to hear. He'd probably glance at me, run away screaming, and then evict me as soon as possible.

"Sure." My voice cracked again. I could have kicked myself. "Sounds good."

"Nice," he grinned. I was such a fool, I barely even knew him. Stop! Stop looking at his smile! Aahhhhhh! "See you in ten?"

I nodded, he waved and left. I reluctantly closed the door behind him, then, a little dazed, continued to stare at the door, imagining him standing there just as he'd done…

The mirror whistled. "Some one's got a cruuuush…"

"Would you _shut up_?" I yelled angrily, spinning to him and face turning red. Of course, he was right, and he knew it.

"Gwen and Charming sitting in a tree…"

I rolled my eyes, walking over to grab my guitar case. Sheep lay next to it, dozing fitfully. I patted him on the head and spoke to the mirror. "You are such a baby."

"Just because I'm a baby doesn't mean I'm not right."

I grunted in reply and made my way to the door. Slamming it just as he started another chorus. 

"Gwen and Char…"

Enough of stupid mirrors. I had a crush to entertain.


	3. Finding Out

**Chapter Three**

The light was low, and I was singing divinely. Mr. Charming was bent over his paperwork, fingers and nose smudged with ink, lovely brow furrowed in concentration. I silently transitioned into a love song of my own making, and he looked up, eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, he threw his papers to the side and I dropped my guitar on the floor, where it landed without harm.

"Gwen, I love you," he whispered, pulling me to him and locking his lips to mine in a kiss that would last for eternity…until he broke away, preparing the words to say again. His lips moved masterly, getting ready for another serving of the expressions that would never be too sweet: 

"_Baaaa…_"

"Urgh." I squinted in the sunlight that was filtering through the bedroom window, thinking automatically that the dream should have carried on a little longer. It was a nice dream, but not quite what had happened the night before. Sheep sat on the edge of my bed, staring up at me hopefully, wearing a dumb smile.

The night had gone well. Very well. Much better than I ever hoped for, anyway, though nothing was quite as good as my developing dream. I was in his office for about an hour and a half, until my fingers became sore and my voice quite hoarse. Mr. Charming was about half way through his papers, head buried deep inside them as though nothing else could disturb him, but I could see the slight wiggle of his fingertips in beat to the music, the rhythm drumming silently in his head as he fought the urge to start singing himself.

I packed my guitar away and just sat for a while, enjoying his silent company. He finally looked up, a bit startled that the music had stopped, even though I had finished about two minutes ago.

"You must be getting tired," he said with a sigh, the startled look in his eyes fading away into a calm mocha-colored confection. "I suppose you can go now."

I stood up and took up my case. "Thanks for letting me play for you. I need an audience every once in a while."

"My pleasure, really." He stood up to show me out, a genuine smile glowing warmly in the dim light. "I get lonely every once in a while. And you sing quite well."

I was starting to blush, but he opened the door and I quietly prayed my thanks for a distraction from the redness in my face. 

"Good night, Gwen," he said, leaning against the doorframe as I walked out. "Don't hesitate to call if you have any troubles."

"Thank you, Mr. Charming," I walked out to the porch and jumped down, skipping all the steps, and turned to wave. 

"Call me Andrew," he said before closing the door, locking in the dim desk-given light. 

Not bad. Not bad at all, especially for a first night.

"Baaaaaa…" Sheep bleated impatiently as it jumped down to my bedside. I stared in disgust at the little tiny strands of wool he had left, and almost without thinking I thrust the wand at the spot, muttering the "pet hair removal" spell.

"I'm getting up," I groaned, swinging my legs over the sides of the bed, the bedcovers had automatically rolled down when I awoke, allowing me easy exit from the mussed tangle. 

After dressing and cleaning-by-wand, I wandered around the house restlessly, trying to think of something to do. I picked up my guitar for a while, but got frustrated by a song I was trying to write and put it hastily away. I had no TV, no radio, and no CD player. The only books I had had been shipped and hadn't arrived yet. I sat on the couch, leaning over my bended knees slightly, staring steadily at the misty mirror.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" I said flatly. "Entertain me."

"Oh, there's no need for me to do that." The mirror seemed hyper a bit, the mask smiling contagiously and bouncing around the frame. "Just take a walk around."

"Why?" I didn't think I needed to ask, really.

"Gwen, think about it. You live in a trailer park. Full of fairy tale creatures. If you're not going to go meet people, at least learn a bit of history."

I frowned, he was right.

So, I pulled my sweatshirt tightly around myself and left the house, winding my way through the trailer park, down little alleyways and hardly-trodden paths, snuck through yards and kicked smooth stones down dirt roads. I passed numerous people that seemed to be faintly familiar: a wolf lounging in a lawn chair, sleeping away a heavy meal; a girl with extremely long hair pushing a twin-stroller, her tired-looking husband at her side; a nervous boy, goose tucked under his arm, tending an overgrown vine that pushed up through the ground, towering high above our heads and further up than I could see, men with "PLANT CONTROL" painted across their backs at his side, looking unhappy and shaking their heads; and a cat walking along, muttering angrily as he kept hiking tiny boots up to his knee joints. 

I had steadily worked my way south through the park, but I suddenly realized I had just reached the entrance to the road on which my home was situated. And there it sat, not more than twenty yards away.

"I suppose you're new here," a man wearing tights said, liquor bottle clenched tight in his hand, as he approached me from behind and tipped his feathered hat. "Just a bit or warning, fair madam, that the roads like to change."

"Thank you," I replied. I continued to stare at my house, wondering if I should go back home at this moment or not.

"So that's your house," he said pensively, stroking his stubbly chin. "I'd be careful if I were you, a witch used to live there until she was arrested for evil meddling." He bowed deeply. "Well, madam, I must be off. Have a good day. By the way, the name's Robin. Robin Hood." And he pranced off, the arrows in the quiver at his back shaking, green tights gleaming in the sunlight. I let go a furtive laugh and went back to my deep thinking. 

A witch used to live in my trailer? That would explain the mirror. But what she was doing with a pet sheep was a mystery to me.

As it seemed like I had seen most of the park, I returned home and was immediately greeted by the mirrors deep but annoying cheery voice, bursting out loudly as soon as I walked through the door.

"Have a good walk?"

"Who's the witch that used to live here?" I asked, throwing my sweatshirt on the couch and collapsing on top of it.

The mask stopped bouncing in his frame and paused, the mist swirling dramatically around it, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, an evil, evil woman."

I frowned. "Yeah, I kind of figured that when I heard the term "witch". If I know my fairy tales, the good magic-doers are usually called "fairies". Even if they are crazy."

"Of course, she's not all bad." The mask started to bounce again, I wondered if it was sort of off on a reflection-induced sugar high. "She did create me."

"Noooo," I assured him sarcastically. "She wasn't evil at all."

"Do you want to see anything?" he asked, so smooth it seemed like a long-enforced habit. 

I was about to say no when I started thinking about it. "Anything?"

"Well, not anything. I can't see into bathrooms, bedrooms, or the distant future."

I was thankful for that, except for the whole not being able to see the future thing. That could have come in handy. 

I couldn't really think of anything to say. I was too afraid to spy on Andrew, fearing seeing something I didn't want to see or not being allowed access…that would have been worse. No one else really interested me enough. I settled on asking a question.

"What are the fairies here for?" I asked.

"Oh," the mask sank, looking slightly disappointed. "They lost their money investing in those wands of theirs. They're a bit eccentric, and seem to get things backwards. In their twisted little brains, a curse is a blessing and a blessing is a curse."

"That would explain the flute playing thing," I muttered softly, and the mirror grinned sardonically.

"You sure do talk about him a lot."

"What? _What_?" I replied angrily. "I don't even know who you're talking about."

The mirror cocked its eyebrow to the side. "Sure."

"I don't."

"Right. You keep saying that."

"I don't."

"Do you want to know his destiny?"

"I thought you said you couldn't see into the distant future," I huffed irritably.

"Ah, so you do know who I'm talking about."

"No."

"Yes." He gave a small chuckle. "It's not a prediction, it's what the fairies have gifted him." 

I was suddenly interested, and it must have been obvious, as he went on. It was hard to keep anything from that stupid piece of glass.

"When he and Snow White were children, they were sort of…given the destiny to marry each other."

My face automatically turned red, nails biting the couch cushions. "What?"

"See, I knew you would care."

"That's terrible!" I exclaimed. "Not because of him, or anything, I still don't know who you're talking about, by the way…but shouldn't they marry someone they love?"

"Well," the mirror looked like it would have shrugged if it had shoulders. "She is quite pretty. And she seems quite fond of him. I thought you didn't care."

I slouched down, arms folded stubbornly across my chest. 

"You like him, admit it."

"Fine," I finally gave in. "I like him. I barely even know him, but I like him. And I'm jealous. Are you happy now?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the mirror broke it with an interesting question. 

"So…what are you going to do about it?"

§

My first week at the park was spent fretting over what I was going to do, and trying to decided whether I should really do anything or not. I mean, I barely knew the guy, but he was sweet, helpful, intelligent, hot…

But I really had no choice, did I? If someone's destined to marry someone, they're destined to marry someone. I doubted that some girl like me, whose last name is Kink, could really do anything about it. Kink. Charming seemed like such a better alternative.

Ugh! Why was I thinking about that already? Noooo…

"Tell me what to do," I pleaded desperately, my hands grasping the cold metal frame of the mirror. "He's going to be here in ten minutes to invite me to his office. What do I do? What do I say?"

"You forgot to put your wand away, again," he said coolly, peering over my shoulder. "I really advise you against leaving it out."

I shook my head, that's not what I wanted to hear.

"Well," he said flatly. "Think about it this way. The fairies want it one way, but maybe real life wants it another. If it's meant to happen between you two, then it will happen eventually."

A knock came at the door, and I stared at it, wide-eyed. It was Friday, it was time to go play for him. I tried to shake the mirror a bit, but it didn't budge. Dang magical mounting…

"But I'm not worried about eventually," I whispered harshly. "I'm worried about now!"

"Gwen?" Andrew's voice said questioningly from outside the door. "Are you in there? The lights are on…"

"He's early. Just…be yourself," the mirror said a bit too loudly as I dashed to hide my wand away. It had become a habit for whenever Andrew came over; to deliver notices, bills that had been directed to his office…

"But I suck!"

The mirror smiled, much to my displeasure. "Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out." He rolled his eyes. "But some people like suckiness. Just go before you make him break in. The less wand magic you use to fix things, the better."

I huffed angrily and jerked open the door, immediately smiling, hoping he didn't see the redness rising in my face. "Sorry…I was…doing something…"

Andrew shrugged his great shoulders, looking god-like as usual, his wavy chestnut hair reflecting the porchlight like...some...shiny thing. "That's okay. Ready to come over?"

"Urm…ya," I shot a dirty glance back at the mirror, picked up my guitar which I had set readily by the doorway, and flung my coat over my shoulder. "I'm ready."

He chivalrously allowed me to leave the door first, preparing to shut it behind me. But before the flimsy thing closed, it was impossible not to hear the mirror's parting words.

"Good lu-"

§

"This came for you," Andrew said casually, tapping a large box that sat ominously on his desk while I drew up my chair. "It's sort of heavy."

"Really…" I went over to it and noticed it was open. I managed a peek and saw that my books had finally been delivered. I looked at him hastily. "It's open."

"Well…you know, I have to check boxes to make sure no illegal substances are delivered to the park, otherwise I could be held…"

I stared at him; it was kind of funny seeing him lie. I knew it wasn't the truth, otherwise he would have noticed the hundreds of boxes of wands being delivered to the fairies. From what the mirror had said, it didn't sound like Andrew was too fond of them. Yes…my box had been addressed to his office instead of me, because I wasn't quite sure whether I had been assigned the right trailer yet, but rifling through my stuff…

Though the thought of him looking at my books didn't really bother me at all. Wait. Crap…I had Harry Potter in there…

"I'm sure," I said, trying to look seriously angry and holding back my grin.

"Really," his face was starting to turn red.

I finally burst out laughing and threw a balled up paper from the recycle bin at him. "You creep."

"Hey," he started laughing too and collapsed down in his chair, drawing a peacock quill into his steady fingers. "At least my last name isn't Kink."

"Watch it, Charming," I said half-threateningly, half-hysterically, as I bent double trying to get my guitar out of my case without killing it.

After the giggles had died away, he began to work and I began to play and sing. But I couldn't really concentrate, I was trying to take a mental inventory of every book I had in that box. I had Harry Potter, which might be embarrassing for a twenty-two year old to have at some point. What if he hated the the books? What if he thought I was a conformist? What if I thought I had the mind of a two-year-old? But I _liked_ Harry Potter…

Ah, crap. There was another book in there, one that I had almost left behind in the dorms, called "Sex, Lies, and Leprechauns". If he had looked through my books, he would have definitely not missed that.

I had become so mentally confused that I had started making up random words to the songs I was playing, not paying attention at all. Andrew looked up at me, wearing an amused smile.

"A little distracted?"

I shook my head. "No, no, not at all."

"Okay, then." He went back to work.

I decided worrying about my stash of books would do no good, so I concentrated on my music and made a quite nice remainder of the evening. When I had put my guitar away, Andrew surprised me by immediately standing up and announcing:

"I'll carry the books back for you."

I stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. "O-okay."

I walked unsteadily back to my trailer, feeling almost tipsy, as he walked by my side with the box in his strong arms. 

"So…" I began, eager to break the awkward silence. "How's life?"

He paused for a bit, then stuck out his tongue in mock-pensive thought. "Life-like."

"Define life-like," I demanded, staggering a bit. The walk back to my trailer was taking longer than usual. I thought about what Robin Hood said about the roads changing, maybe that would work in my favor a bit tonight. 

"I don't know. My life basically deals with collecting rent, keeping what little control I have over those fairies, and perusing very few outer interests." He sighed. "What does life-like mean to you?"

I groaned. "Wishing for things I can't have."

He nodded, and I immediately thought, _Well, you have Snow White, don't you? She must be a lot hotter than me…_

But he was just so nice…

"So…do you know Snow White?" I shot out suddenly, shocking myself a bit with my daring. I immediately had to make up a lie to cover my randomness. "She dropped by a bit today to welcome me to the neighborhood."

"Snow White?" I detected a hint of bitterness in his voice. _Yes_! "I'm surprised, she's usually too busy at home taking care of the seven…vertically-challenged human beings that are usually, and in a politically incorrect manner, called dwarves...to visit anyone. I know her, yes, but I don't see her that often."

"She's pretty," I acknowledged, even though I had never even seen her. I was just banking off what the mirror had told me. Andrew just grunted in reply.

My trailer suddenly appeared around the next corner. The streets must have finally sensed my need. 

"Thanks for walking me home," I said carefully as he set the box of books down on my porch. 

"Welcome," he said a bit sourly. "Night, Gwen."

He was gone before I could say goodnight. It was my fault; I had hit a wrong nerve. I shouldn't have mentioned her, it was obviously a touchy subject for him. Dang it, he was mad at me, and it was all my fault. 

No, no, it was the roads fault. If I had gotten home sooner, I wouldn't have had to bring her up to make conversation. They just had to change. 

Damn those roads.

§

I don't own Harry Potter, and yes, "Sex, Lies, and Leprechans" is a real book. Neither do I own that, most fortunately. 


	4. Coffee Break

Chapter Four

I sat on the floor in my pajamas, leaning against the couch, armed with a large box of chocolates and one of my favorite books: _ "Chocolat"_. I popped a truffle into my mouth, and the mirror looked at me, squinting through one eye.

"All right, what happened?" he sighed.

"Like you need to know," I said, my voice muffled as I stuffed a coconut chocolate between my teeth. "This is really good…"

"Why don't I need to know?"

I swallowed and glared at him. "Don't tell me you _weren't_ spying on us. I've come to expect it, I'd be very disappointed in you if you didn't."

"Okay, okay," the mirror admitted, shaking its mask in protest. "I know what happened. But I wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it."

"Not really." Cherry cordial, I spit it out in a napkin.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." 

There was a pause. "Just go ahead and do it. I promise I won't bug you."

"All right, all right." I took a deep breath, closing the lid tightly on the chocolate box and placing my book on the floor. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me Snow White."

The mask faded away into a swirling white mist, and I could hear a faint wind as though it were coming from surround sound speakers. The mist began to disappear, and I was watching a tired looking young woman, bent over a sink scrubbing dishes with an old dishrag. Behind her, a thick layer of pipe smoke lingered near the ceiling. Despite her obvious fatigue, she was smiling happily and somewhat stupidly, and I hated to admit she was indeed very pretty. Her black, black hair was pulled back in a low knot at her neck, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes a pale blue. I despised her immediately, especially the way I could hear her humming happily, the air around her almost screaming, "I live to serve and be an airhead!"

"Okay, mirror. Thank you." The scene disappeared but the mask didn't come back into view. The mirror knew me too well for my only having lived there for a week. I sighed and the next words I said were almost a mumble, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me Prinze Andrew Charming."

The mist swirled for a bit longer, having a hypnotizing effect, almost dizzying. Finally, when I could hardly take it anymore, the shroud cleared and I saw the handsome face of my landlord, downcast. He looked tired and a bit angry; I feared that he was still angry with me, which was probable. The view zoomed out and I saw that he was lying on a couch, a nice couch, in a large room that most likely wasn't in a trailer. I hadn't even thought that he might have lived outside of the park, which was really most likely, in a larger house. He didn't seem to be doing anything except staring at the ceiling, and I watched for about ten minutes, stared at his staring, his eyelids drooping, as his face became demure and features relaxed, drifting off to sleep. 

I waved a dismissive hand. "Okay, mirror, thank you." The scene faded away, almost too soon, as I watched Andrew's sleeping face with longing. It was replaced with the sad looking theater mask, looking at me with pity.

"Anything more I can do for you, Gwen?"

"No," I said, opening the chocolate box again and popping another truffle in my mouth. The mask sighed and disappeared.

I remembered how concerned I had been about thinking what books I had packed in the box, and what Andrew had thought when he'd seen them. My worries were far past that right now, but I set the box in my lap and started rifling through it, emptying it onto the dark carpet. 

First were a few of my favorite novels, where _Chocolat_ had been located, along with my childhood favorite _Ella Enchanted_, and _Kleopatra_. I set those aside, not particularly concerned about them. Next was my layer of Harry Potter books, I set those aside for close inspection, especially since there was a piece of paper sticking out of one of them that I didn't remember inserting. Underneath was my secret passion: trashy romance novels, which seemed undisturbed. I mostly enjoyed rolling my eyes at the cliché situations and phrases, but there was also that stupid longing for my life to be perfect.

Of course, I don't want heaving bosoms and guys prettier than me in real life. That would be slightly disturbing. But it now seemed that Andrew was out of my reach. I wondered if there were any romance novels involving nuns…

I set the romance novels to one side and picked up the fifth Harry Potter book, ruffling the edges as the piece of paper fell out onto my lap. I picked it up with a shaking hand and gazed at it wide-eyed. 

The handwriting was not my own chicken-scratch, it was a loopy, even, honest scrawl that stretched the length of the margins and continued down the page. I read, my mouth gaping open.

_Gwen,_ it read. _I'm sorry to look through your box, but when I shook it and it sounded like books, I couldn't help myself in learning more about you. Again, I am deeply sorry, I probably look a little creepy to you right now, but I just wanted to see what went inside my new friend's head. I beg your pardon._

And by the way, I happen to enjoy Harry Potter, also. We should get together over coffee sometime and discuss it.

Yours truly,

Andrew

"Damn it!" I wailed, throwing the books back into the box desperately. The mask suddenly appeared with a dazed expression on its face. "Why did I say anything? Why?" 

"Because…" the mirror began to babble. "You are a concerned girl with an extreme interest in a young man who is practically engaged to…"

"Shut up," I muttered with a sniff. 

"You asked."

"No, I didn't."

The mirror muttered something that sounded like "women" and disappeared yet again. I slammed the note back on the ground, got to my feet, and carried the chocolates and the box of books to my room. I almost threw the note away, but decided to bring it to bed with me. I fell asleep reading it and rereading it, crumpled weakly in my desperate hand.

§

The next morning I took another walk around the neighborhood, hoping that the air would soothe away the red rings around my eyes and cool the tiny bruises on my hands where I had clutched the note through the night. I had screwed everything up. I mean, what normal person blames their relationship problems on roads. Yeah, I rolled my eyes. It was all the roads' fault. 

"Madam!" I heard someone yell behind me, the voice familiar. The guy in the green tights, clutching his liquor bottle, came running at me, a salmon pink paper waving about in his hand. "Madam!" He exclaimed again as he approached me, smiling widely.

"Hello…er…Robin Hood, was it?"

He bowed deeply. "Yes, Madam. And may I request to hear upon the beauty of your name?" He was still bowing, his face parallel to the ground. I could see the red rushing into his face. 

"It's…Gwen," I said, blushing as he took my hand and started laying kisses on the back. "Gwen Kink."

He released my hand and stood to face me, shoving the salmon pink paper toward me. "Beautiful name, indeed. I have a favor to ask of you, fair madam."

I took the paper and glanced across it, the large block letters spelling out "**BBQ**" immediately catching my eye.

"Uh huh," I grunted, still skimming the paper. 

He bowed again. "I much request your presence as my fair maiden at this spectacular feast. It is, as the women say, the social event of the season for the trailer park, and I would be much honoured if you humbled yourself so much as to accompany me."

I glanced at him in confused awe, my eyebrow lifted. "You want me to be your date?" 

He stood up straight again, breathing a little rapidly. "In so many words, yes." 

"I'll have to think about it," I answered immediately. 

He bowed yet again. I felt like kicking him. "I pray you do consider this bold request. Have a good day, fair lady."

And again, he pranced off happily, looking like a green-tights-wearing deer. 

Weird people live here.

I took the paper back to the trailer, gazing at it thoughtfully as I collapsed onto my bed, grazing Andrew's note with my fingertips. Social event of the season? It seemed like some sort of lower-class ball. And if that were the case, I would definitely need to have the date. The hopeful me pushed the handsome image of Andrew into my mind, but I banished it with a frown and a dismissive wave of my hand. No need for wishful thinking.

Unless I met some other extremely handsome, single, smart, funny man in this place, I was pretty much stuck with going with Robin Hood to the barbeque. Repunzel's husband was handsome, but it seemed like he didn't need a home-wrecker to disturb his family at the moment. Peter Piper was a hermit, and I was pretty sure that Jack was now serving time for using illegal fertilizers to make his beanstalk grow too tall for county regulations. I sighed hopelessly, resigning to the fact that I'd have to go to the ball...uh…barbeque with a tights-wearing man that was a bit too old for me.

Just then the doorbell rang. 

I ran to it quicker than I'd probably ran my entire life. It couldn't be him…could it? No, couldn't be. 

It was!

"Hi," Andrew said, slightly sheepishly. He was leaning against the doorframe, like he didn't have a care in the world. As _Sex, Lies, and Leprechauns_ would explain it: "the sexy pose". My hand, which remained on the doorknob, was starting to sweat. 

"Hey," I said, somewhat calmly. Yes, I was super, super, _trés_ cool.

"Could…um…I come in?"

I stepped back, allowing him his much-deserved entrance. Even though he was mad at me and had rifled through my books, and in turn I slightly mad at him, he was still a god. Hey, it was all in the sake of friendship…

"Did you get my note?" he asked me as I shut the door and pointed him toward the couch. He flopped down on it - gracefully, of course, as all gods do. His chestnut hair was combed back in that "I don't give a care" look, and his hands were stuffed stubbornly in his jeans. His hazel eyes followed me as I sat down beside him…well, sort of beside him. I was pressed against the opposite arm of the couch as much as possible. If I had gone any further, I would either be sitting on the arm or, knowing my balance, falling off.

"Yeah…I did," I answered, somewhat hesitantly. There was an awkward moment of silence. 

"Gwen, I'm sorry for getting all angry last night," he said suddenly, turning toward me. I looked at him absently, somewhat surprised. I thought I was the one to apologize.

"Well, I'm sorry for bringing her up," I replied apologetically. "It's obviously an uncomfortable subject for you."

He sighed heavily. "Stupid fairies…"

"Yeah…" I felt suddenly guilty for owning one of their wands, but decided against mentioning it. "Do you forgive me?"

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "There was nothing to forgive." He stuck his hand out, and I shook it. "Friends again?"

I smiled in relief. I was pleased to even hear that he considered me a friend. "Of course." 

He released my hand and I fought the urge to take it back, entwining the fingers in mine. Instead, he stood up and dusted off his jeans as though he had been sitting on a dirty floor. 

"Hey, my couch is cle-" He laughed and offered me his hand to help me to my feet. I silently obliged and we stared at each other for a bit, searching for what to say next. 

"So," he said with a secretive smile, eyebrows slightly lowered. "Are you up for Harry Potter over coffee yet?"

§

I sipped on my hot chocolate thoughtfully as Andrew gazed at me over his black coffee. "So you don't like coffee. How odd."

I shrugged, setting the cup down on the table. "I never developed a taste for it. I adore chocolate."

He nodded, and gave a steady grin. "I've been dying to ask, what kind of a name is Kink anyway?"

I glared at him half-heartedly, and his smile widened. "Honest question," he said defensively. 

"I should ask my parents about that," I replied with another sip. "I always threatened to change it when I became eighteen. But then I became too lazy to follow through with it." I said with a smirk. "I'm now determined to marry Neville Longbottom anyway, he has a much better last name."

Andrew laughed. "Oh, much better."

"And what kind of a name is Charming?" I exclaimed, leaning back in my booth seat as a headless man with a pumpkin under his arm shuffled past, sipping a latté. How, I don't know. He just...did.

"Family name," he answered, leaning back in his own seat, eyes sparkling. "Though I can't say it fits me. I think the name "Prinze" was some sort of a cruel joke. That's why I go by Andrew."

I nodded in understanding. "Smart move."

"Yup." We sipped at our drinks in silence for a moment, listening to the odd sounds of the Fairy Quarter Café: the bleating of sheep, the frantic snorts of pigs of various sizes, the flapping of wings, the random evil cackles and the numerous "Hey, stop that"s. 

"Gwen," Andrew said shortly, a hint of finality in his voice. "Do you like me?" 

I goggled at him, trying to keep my mouth closed. He was a man…how on earth was he that perceptive? I tried to cover my tracks. "You mean as a friend? Of course, I mean, you did take me out to coffee to discuss Harry Potter and the secretive origin of my last name." 

"No, I don't mean as a friend." His demeanor was serious, and my smile quickly disappeared. I set my hot chocolate down on the table, frightened that I might spill it on myself. "I mean, do you like me romantically?"

"Urm…no, not like that," I lied, trying to keep the blood from rushing to my face. "You're a friend."

He sighed and nodded, leaning back into the booth. He seemed flushed. "Okay." What, had I hurt his ego? So far, it had failed to show.

To my shock, he downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp, a wince of displeasure evident on his face. "All right, ready to go?"

Great, he was mad at me again. He was a bit moody for a grown man. 

I left my hot chocolate, unfinished, on the table and followed him out to the car. He opened the door for me and scurried over to his side, not waiting for me to get in. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you…" I started to say.

"No, no, I'm just egotistical," he said, gripping the steering wheel rather harshly. So that was it. That jerk, he had gotten me up thinking he liked me, when I was just another of his easy conquests...until I lied. "You just bruised me a bit, that's all." His voice sounded a bit bitter. "I'll heal in no time."

Why couldn't I tell him the truth? Was he lying? Did he actually like me? I didn't want to risk it enough to find out. I was too much of a chicken…I was always a chicken. In high school I had kept myself from telling any of the guys I liked how I felt about them, only to find out that they had returned my feelings when they were dating other girls.

"We're still friends," he babbled, seeming like more of an assurance to himself.

"Of course," I answered. The silence told me he hadn't been looking for my answer. 

I had screwed up again, but something inside me prevented me from telling him the truth. What if this was some sort of show? There was always this possibility. _Always_. I had no courage. I was a jellyfish.

"I am a jellyfish," I said aloud, not noticing I had until Andrew said something.

"You're a what?"

"Never mind," I answered quickly. He shrugged and we went back to the awkward silence, only broken when he said goodbye to me as he dropped me back at my trailer. 

So, the night had gone perfectly yet again. He was easy to talk to, funny, and, well, charming. But I always seemed to screw it up. 

Why couldn't I just tell him I liked him?

"I am a jellyfish," I said sadly, pushing back into my trailer, seeking much needed refuge from my stupidity. I knew, I had always known, that the refuge would never come. 

§

Please review! 


	5. Moving Up

Hey everyone! Fanfiction is finally back up! Yay! I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter, product of spending 8 hours at my grandpa's house while he was in the garden and my mom was cleaning. Fun stuff.

§

Chapter Five

"Spineless!" I yelled, striking a horribly contrasting minor fifth chord on my guitar. "Stupid! Senseless!"

"Shut up!" the mirror screamed over my yelling. "I have ears too, you know! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD!"

I gave a irritated groan and shoved my guitar harshly beside me, emitting from it a horrible, guttural sound. "I'm just so frustrated!"

The mask rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, just because you have to live up to your deeply disturbed, emotion-driven, perturbed stereotype of the starving guitarist."

"Starving artist," I said, plucking absently at the high E-string. "If you're going to pick on me, at least do it right."

The mirror sighed, and Sheep butted me in the arm with his head. "I don't want to go with Robin Hood to the barbeque," I said sleepily, draping my arm around the little wooly creature. "I feel bad, but I really don't. Sheep, will you be my date?"

He looked up at me and smiled, wagging his tail, and almost immediately flopped down on the floor and fell asleep. I turned back to the mask. "I don't think he's going to be a very good date."

The mirror made a disgusted face. "Better than Robin Hood…that man…"

"Yes, there is something odd about him."

"Most definitely," the mask nodded in muted agreement. "Most…oh crap."

"What?" He was wearing that sheepish look, not a horrified, regretful look, but a mischievous, "I'm going to enjoy being in trouble" look. I narrowed my eyes. "What did you do?"

"I forgot to tell you." He was wearing a smug grin. "You've been selected to be entertainment at the barbeque."

I stared at him, mouth wide open, eyes large. I'd only been here two weeks! I _didn't sign up!_ "What…what am I supposed to do? I didn't even sign up for anything!"

"Well…you see, you don't sign up. You're sort of…chosen."

"_All_ the entertainment?"

"Well…er…yes." 

I slammed my fist on the ground, accidentally awaking Sheep, and with a loud bleat, he went scurrying off into my bathroom. A salmon pink sheet, looking much like the first for the barbeque, floated down from the ceiling into my other hand. It was a flyer, my face plastered across the front, my mouth in an exaggerated "O" shape and the freckles on my nose standing out more than usual. I stared at the picture, horrified.

"I'm not going to play if they use _this_ picture. I'm not even going to play at all!" I said stubbornly, throwing the sheet on the ground and crossing my arms.

A sudden fork of lightning shone brightly out my window, thunder rolling so loudly I could feel the vibrations underneath me, even though the day had been clear. It struck again, a blinding flash of light in the darkening night. The mask crouched down in its frame, looking like it was trying to duck under something.

"I don't think you want to say that…"

"Let me guess. If I don't play, they'll cut off my hands?" I asked, grimace set harshly on my mouth.

"Something like that."

I gave another frustrated groan. "Fine! I guess I'm playing then!" The lightning automatically disappeared, just as another flash was reaching for the ground. The thunder was silenced just as if the sound had been stuffed into a sound proof box. "Not like I have a choice. Though sometimes dying seems like a better alternative than living here."

The mirror rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I'm so sure."

"My life is hard," I said quietly, staring down at my abandoned guitar. I should probably start practicing again, for real this time, if I was going to be performing in front of the entire park in less than a week.

"Yes," the mirror replied sarcastically. "_So_ hard. Six children in a run down trailer, deadbeat ex-husband, no job, back pain, a gimp leg, and no wand and yet you _still_ always pull through. Really, how _do_ you do it?"

"Shut up," I retorted, sneering. "I'm young. It's hard for me."

"Oh yes," he sighed. "The eternal excuse, 'I'm young'."

Sick of his ranting, I picked my guitar back up and struck an E-minor chord. "Um….C." C chord… "Then F seven…no, ew…G…"

The mask sighed again and disappeared. At least I had some peace. Now time for some words…

"I'm an idiot," I said dutifully. "That's a good lyric. Though I don't know how that will go over. No doubt that Andrew wouldn't mind hearing the truth…" I spent the next two hours plucking out chords that sounded good with a few of the songs I had written back in college but hadn't thought up music for. I had about two songs done by the time the clock struck eleven, and it was then I realized that I was dead tired. I would have to save the rest for tomorrow.

I was rather proud of myself, though, two songs was quite an accomplishment for only two hours. It usually took me a few days, and I did have to admit they weren't bad. 

I guess there's nothing more inspirational than when you're hands are on the cutting board. 

§

I spent the entirety of the next two days at home, working out new songs and perfecting old ones for the performance. I clipped them into a binder and practiced them repeatedly until my hand stopped fumbling over the chords and my voice stopped slipping uneasily between notes. My fingers gradually became adjusted to the new creations, and when I was practicing in the late morning on the fourth day before the picnic, I did so well as even to earn a graceful nod from the mirror.

"I have to say," he said graciously, his masculine tone rich and warm. "You do quite well under pressure."

"Thanks," I said, beaming a bit. It took a lot to get a compliment out of him. "I've been working hard."

"I know you…" 

I almost jumped when there was a loud knock on the door. I hadn't been expecting anyone, and Andrew didn't come over anymore unless he had any more of my mail. Most of my bills usually came to him, being addressed to the office instead of to my trailer. These moments were awkward, and usually just consisted of a brief explanation, a shove of paper into my hand, quick thanks, and a swift walk away. I always felt frustrated and confused when he stopped by. 

Sure enough, it wasn't Andrew, even though I had been hoping for just a few words with him, a glimpse of his face, no matter how awkward it would be. I missed his company. Instead, the man that stood on my porch was wearing green tights and a feather in a Yankee's baseball cap, whiskey flask hanging delicately off of his leather belt. He stood proudly, back straight, hands on his hips, as I opened the door.

"Fair, majestic Gwen," he crowed loudly, bowing. It was so hard to suppress the urge to kick him off my front step. "I have stopped by your most charming home to ask your final decision on my preposition." He stood up, his yellowish eyes gleaming. "Do you have an answer for me, my queen?"

"Erm…" I was leaning against the door; ready to push it closed in case he made any moves to come into my house. "I'm sorry, Robin, but I already have a date."

"Oh?" I couldn't say he looked disappointed, but rather amused. "Am I safe to assume that it is our dear Prinze Andrew Charming that has so captured your heart? Pardon my saying so, sweet maid, but you two are quite a topic of discussion around the park, or so Maid Marian tells me." He was beginning to blush. "I never participate in idle gossip myself." I rolled my eyes. Sure… "The fairies are not too happy about your little affair."

"I don't give a damn about what everyone else says. Besides, An…Mr. Charming and I are not dating."

Robin's mouth was somewhat tightly set, his face a bit reddened. "Begging your pardon, mademoiselle, but it is not proper for a lady to swear."

I frowned and said in something of a mocking voice, "My apologies."

"Well…" He changed position, his legs stiffening in the green tights. "My preposition still stands, Lady Kink. Will you accompany me to this anticipated event we speak of?"

"I already told you," I replied, leaning back against the door, my voice feigning an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry, but I have a date."

"Oh," he said, now seeming surprised after I told him for the second time. "That's right, excuse me. Well, thank you for considering me, at least." He bowed again and pranced off before I could mutter a brusque goodbye.

Sheep waddled to my side and pressed against my leg, giving a small bleat. I crouched down and patted his side. "That's right, hon, you're my date."

He silently bounded off into my room, and I heard a loud creaking signifying his jump onto my bed. It was followed closely by a severe hacking sound.

"No!" I yelled, running in after him. "Not on my bed…nooooo…."

§

The day of the barbeque came too soon - it seemed like everything was going wrong. I was bloated and my jeans wouldn't fit right, I had skinned my knee and now walked with a slight limp, and I had to bum a ride to the music store that morning to replace a string I had broken the night before. 

I was pulling on my pink tank top and trying to fasten my necklace at the same time when I heard a random giggle from the living room. I walked out, shoving my feet into my sandals. 

The mirror giggled again. "It's kind of funny when you swear."

I stared at him. "You were thinking about this because…"

"Oh, just because I expect to be hearing more of it soon."

"And why is that?" I glowered, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Because you need to be there in five minutes."

"Ah damn…damn it." Mirror giggled again and began to quote Robin Hood's little speech about cursing. I ignored him and ran and got the leash, somehow able to track down Sheep (who was standing absently in the bathtub and staring loathingly at the faucet), and fastened it to his collar. I rushed him back to the living room, wrapped his leash around my wrist, stuck my binder underneath my arm, picked up my guitar, and put my hand on the doorknob. It didn't budge.

My heart jumped. I was going to lose my hands. I whirled around and almost screamed at the mirror.

"WHY CAN'T I GET OUT?"

Mirror looked huffy. "I want to go, too. I wouldn't miss seeing you make a fool out of yourself for the world."

"I'm glad you have so much confidence in me." Two minutes. "How do you expect to go? You're kind of mounted on the wall."

He nodded toward a coffee table in the corner, and I ran toward it and opened the single drawer. In it was a pink cosmetic compact, and I heard a struggling sound inside. I looked back and saw that the mirror's surface was blank.

"We're leaving," I said loudly, shoving the compact in my pocket. "I'll open you when we get there."

That must have satisfied him because the door opened. One minute. I ran (limped) through the park, dragging Sheep on the leash behind me. The road met my needs, and I arrived at the courtyard with thirty seconds to spare. 

"I'm here," I panted as the red fairy passed me, magicking decorative garlands up onto the oversized stage.

She smiled at me sweetly. "That's nice, dear." She began to walk away and my face reddened in frustration.

"I'm the entertainment," I replied bluntly.

She looked back at me with a faint air of annoyance. "That's the stage, darling. Don't let me keep you from setting up." She smiled again, fake sugar, and walked away.

I dragged everything up on the stage, almost tripping when the stairs flinched in surprise at my footsteps, and somehow made it to center stage without breaking a limb. 

I looked around in a state of confusion. There was no microphone, no guitar jack, no speakers, nothing except for a chair, a music stand, a bobby pin, and two pills: one that glowed pink and one a deep purple. Knowing nothing else to do, I took the compact out of my pocket and opened it.

The mask glared at me from his tiny frame, obviously annoyed. "I don't like being shoved in pockets," he said bitterly.

"Oh, be a big boy," I pouted, mocking him. "And help Gwen set up."

He bowed forward. "I live to serve, your majesty."

"That's my trooper." I swung the mirror around my surroundings, letting it settle focus on the chair. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Ah, this is simple." I rolled my eyes. "Clip the pin on the sound hole of your guitar. Swallow the pink pill when you want the so called "mike" to turn on, and the purple when you want it to stop." 

"So I don't get to eat or anything?" I asked, horrified at the thought of everyone listening to me smack away on tuna fish sandwiches.

"Oh, no, no. That's not how it works. You're just…a show, I guess we could call it. The actual barbeque happens later."

"Okay," I sighed. "That's better."

"Yup," he agreed, nodding deeply.

"Why did they pick me," I groaned, setting the compact on the ground as I lead Sheep backstage, tied his leash to a sturdy post, and returned to unpack my guitar. I fastened the strap around my shoulder, just in case I got jittery enough to drop my instrument.

"Well, you are one of the few talented ones in this park. Not to mention that your popularity with the fairies is a common discussion…you know, because of Andrew."

"So I've heard," I replied, shoving the purple pill into my pocket and sitting down, my shiny black guitar resting on my knee. I clipped the bobby pin into the sound hole and struck a G chord.

It rang the perfect volume throughout the courtyard. One of the fairies gave me a thumbs-up and continued to turn dandelion seeds into ugly yellow easy chairs. 

"I'll keep you behind me," I said, picking the compact up and readying the pink pill as people started milling into the lawns. "And if this kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you."

He grinned as I shoved him underneath my seat. "That is to be expected."

My palms were beginning to sweat as people were seated, the pill becoming sticky in my hand. With saliva that seemed to appear out of nowhere, I swallowed it.

It suddenly went dark, and a deep booming voice came out of thin air. Spotlights of various colors swirled around the audience, eventually coming to rest on me. My face was burning from the heat and embarrassment.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and fairy tale things," the Deep Booming Voice said. "We at the Fairy Land Trailer Park are now very proud to present…Gwen." 

I coughed quietly. Thankfully, the pill was smart enough to not pick up on that. I struck a chord on my guitar and my voice found the note like an old friend.

Then I saw Andrew. He was seated in the front row, holding hands with Snow White. We made eye contact and I smiled, while he broke away, obviously flustered.

I struck another chord, transitioning smoothly from warm up to the first song.

Ha, he was confused. I saw it in his eyes.

And I was ready.

§

The clapping was so loud I could hardly hear the Deep Booming voice say "Merchandise will be available in this area during the barbeque."

I swallowed the purple pill as people began to filter into the picnic area. I unclipped the pin and laid it on the chair. I put my guitar away, positioning it just so I could get my music folder in so I wouldn't have to carry it around.

"That was very good," the mirror said as I grabbed him and headed backstage to get Sheep. 

"Thanks," I replied. "But they're easy to entertain."

He suddenly gave a loud, very fake yawn. "Well, I'm beat. Better be heading home. Bye." Before I could ask for an explanation to _why_ he was tired, or if that was even possible for a mirror, he had vanished. I snapped the compact closed and stuck it in my pocket. Sheep was asleep on the wooden plank floor, bleating softly in his dreams. I got onto my knees and gave him a gentle nudge.

"Ready to go, date of mine?" I asked, untying his leash from the pole.

"Baaa…" he yawned, climbing sleepily to his hooves. I walked back out to the stage, greeted by the blue fairy who told me my guitar had been sent back home. I thanked her and headed to the barbeque. 

It looked like the fairies had definitely let the sun back into the picnic area. About fifty yards to the east there was a crystal blue lake, reflecting the late afternoon sky. My date pranced happily before me, holding his head up high.

It was weird even more so when I thought about it, I had pulled my date out of the closet. 

Never mind that, I knew why I was here. It wasn't just because I was going to get my hands chopped off, if it was that I would have left as soon as the show was over. No, it was because of Andrew. I missed him. Yes, I liked him. Probably loved him (things always seemed to happen like that in fairy tales, dang it). I was here to show him what he was missing. I was _not_ a conquest!

No matter how appealing that idea sounded.

With Sheep on my arm, I sampled all of the dishes, except for the ones that glowed, glittered or screamed when you scooped some of it on your dish. I sat as far away as possible from Robin Hood, who looked to be trying to woo Maid Marian, and in a position where I could watch Andrew and his black-haired bimbo and where they would have to strain themselves to see me. They were no longer holding hands. Snow White seemed to be having a very interesting conversation with herself while Andrew appeared to be particularly interested in his chocolate pudding. 

Sheep curled up by my side, delicately testing a selection of grass, while I sat back, munched on my potato chips, and watched the object of my affections.

Before long, a hairy, disgruntled-looking dwarf meandered over to Snow White's side. She began talking animatedly to him, batting her eyelashes and flipping her hair, while he did something that disgustingly looked like pelvic thrusting. I blanched while Andrew got up, asked for an excuse which was ignored, and started walking to the lake, disappearing in the trees. 

Now was my chance.

I borrowed a blanket from the last of the three little pigs, grabbed my plate and Sheep's leash, and dragged him down to the waterfront. He seemed rather attached to the grass by my chair. I walked across the rocky shoreline a bit until I ran across Andrew, who was leaning up against a large tree, his eyes closed, head pressed back against the rough bark. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding up his chin. 

In Shakespeare's overrated words: "Oh, that I could be a glove to touch thy cheek", or some crap like that.

In a flourish of long forgotten courage (jellyfish gone!), I approached him and plopped the blanket onto the grass. Andrew opened his eyes, startled.

"Gwen?"

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you? The picnic area was too crowded. But I still wanted someone to talk to."

"Um…"

"Thanks." I dropped Sheep's leash and stomped on it to keep him from running off. I spread the blanket out next to Andrew, set my foot down, and tied the leash to a strong branch of the tree. I picked up a potato chip and said, "How are you, Mr. Charming?"

"I'm fine…I guess." He paused. "How are y…is that your pet?"

"I'm okay, and yes." I decided against telling him that I found Sheep in my closet. "I've grown quite attached to him." I scratched him behind the ears (Sheep, not Andrew) and he bleated contentedly. "He's a good boy…most of the time."

Andrew glanced at the little wooly creature out of the corner of his eye. "Erm…yeah." 

An awkward pause followed, and I stared out into the lapping waters of the lake, having the sudden urge to go swimming. I suppressed it and it was immediately replaced by another surge of unusual bravery.

"You and Show White don't seem to be getting along very well," I said casually. 

He stiffened then relaxed, slumping further down the tree. I scooted over and offered him part of my blanket, which he took up with his wonderful body a bit reluctantly. 

I leaned back on the ground and rested my hands on my stomach, looking over at him. He mimicked me, except fixing his gaze on the green branches high above our heads. I decided to move my eyes there, in case my stare made him uncomfortable (undoubtedly). 

"Mr. Charming," I began.

He automatically corrected me. "Andrew."

I sighed. "Andrew. I'm sorry I insulted…"

"Stop it, Gwen." He turned to face me, and our eyes met. His smooth hazel eyes…ah…I was getting sucked in again, dang it. How was I ever going to learn to survive a handsome face? 

It was funny, really. Our faces were only inches apart, but the last thing on my mind was kissing him. I was more afraid of him suddenly biting me if anything, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. He wasn't Hannibal Lector.

"Stop what?" I demanded.

"Apologizing." He rolled his head back and slipped his arms underneath his neck, propping his fine head off of the ground. "I was being a jerk. You have the right to not like me. I was just upset because I was so sure…" He stopped talking and rolled back over onto his side. "I have only one favor to ask you…even if it is all fake. Would you let me kiss you?"

I almost laughed out loud, but before I could shout out the most definite "yes" I ever planned to say in my life, Andrew's hand was entangled in my hair and his mouth was nearing my lips. 

"Excuse me, Miss?" A high, lisping voice made Andrew break away from me, red faced. I sat up, fumbling for a grasp on reality, to see a young, round faced girl with blond curls in a swimsuit approaching us, gesturing wildly at Sheep. Damn kid.

"Miss! You found Lamb!"

I stared at her. "Huh?"

"Lamb!" Sheep blinked dumbly at her, not a hint of recognition in his usually warm gaze. 

Andrew grimaced at me, obviously still quite embarrassed. "You know," he prompted. "Mary had a little lamb…? Gwen, meet Mary."

"But he's my pet!" I couldn't help blurting out, quite selfishly, as I ignored Andrew. 

The girl suddenly burst into tears. I was jealous of how some kids just pull automatic guild trips like that. My heart was already melting.

"I-I found him in my closet," I admitted quietly.

"He's _mine_!" Mary screamed, in a spectacularly quick move, unhooking Sheep's leash from his collar. True to the nursery rhyme, Sheep followed her loyally as she ran laughing back to the picnic area.

Dang kid ruined everything.

"Excuse me for a minute," I quickly apologized to Andrew and sprinted (as fast I could with the scraped knee) off after the brat.

I found her by the punchbowl, ladling sparkling juice onto Sheep's (Lamb's, whatever) snow-white wool.

"Mary." I approached her. She ignored me, continuing to spoon punch, while Sheep's ears flickered in annoyance.

"Mary," I repeated, grabbing Sheep by the collar. He leaned into my as if for protection. She finally stopped ladling and glanced loathingly at me. "Who took your sheep?" I asked. "…Lamb?"

"You did," she replied bitterly, pulling Sheep back to her. He bleated angrily. "You're the one who had him."

"I found him in my closet," I replied, deciding to give up the tug-o-war that had begun. "I didn't take him. A witch used to live in my trailer."

"Oh." Awkward pause. "Well." Awkward pause. "Okay. He-he likes you better. You can keep him." She looked like she was on the verge of tears again, those disgustingly clear blue eyes brimming with salty water.

Overtaken by an odd feeling of pity, I made a decision.

"No," I said, gazing sadly at my former pet and patting him on the head. _I'm sorry, Sheep_! "He's rightfully yours. I'll miss him, but you should keep him."

Mary sniffled. "Th-thank you."

I turned and began to walk away, but I had to stop when a rosy colored hand caught the crook of my arm.

"Gwen." The red fairy was smiling mischievously, maybe a bit insanely. "I didn't compliment you on your performance."

I waited for her to with a raised eyebrow, but she didn't. 

"I saw what you just did. Good girl. Any way, I noticed that your songs were kind of missing something. You're an artist, you were lacking the irony, the _bitterness_. Any one could write about love." Her smile twitched a bit, I could sense that she was thinking I had written them about Andrew. The truth was I had written them long before I had met the boy. "So I have a gift for you." She wiggled her fingers, and an odd tingling sensation spread from my scalp to my toes. "Gwen, I grant you the gift of sarcasm."

Great, I thought, I really needed that.

§§§

Thank you to everyone who has been a contant reviewer. And to everyone else, please review and make a poor girl's day!


	6. Climbing Down the Social Scale

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, but I hope it's extra length makes up for it! And thanks to everyone who's been so avid at reviewing, I really appreciate the feedback :). Oh! I almost forgot! I got animation shop, became bored, and made some trailers for some of my stories, including this one. Find them at my site, www.wonk.vze.com, under ART and Trailers. 

**Chapter Six**

I felt odd as I walked back to the lake, Sheepless. I was out one pet and the ability to express myself freely. This had become obvious when I thanked the fairy out of sheer politeness and it came out sounding bitter and sarcastic. 

"Good, you're back," Andrew said as I approached, climbing to his feet and rushing over to me. He threw his arms around my waist, pressing heart-flutteringly close to me. I could see every ray in his eyes, every light freckle that was just a slight dusting across his nose, every movement of his chestnut hair. "Now let's start where we left off, if that's okay with you. One time only, I promise." 

I nodded enthusiastically, not trusting myself to speak. So, we did start where we left off, before the home-wrecker girl interrupted us, and he slowly pressed his lips to mine. It was quick and sweet, and he pulled away leisurely, letting go of me and sitting back down on the blanket, a bit red in the face.

My thoughts of him ever being an egotistical jerk faded into a view of him that was nothing but a sweet, gentle, and handsome man that also proved to be quite a good kisser.

A bit dazed, I sat down next to him and sat silently. Wow, for such a quick kiss, it surely did things to my mind. I tried to collect my thoughts when Andrew broke in.

"It's not true," he said quickly, beginning to stumble over his words. "I mean…you didn't bruise my ego. Well…not really. I was disappointed, because the truth was that I _did_ like you. I _do_ like you. A lot. Probably even more than I realize. You're so different from the other girls here. You're creative, funny, smart…you don't have an unnatural obsession with dwarves…"

I gave a small snort of laughter, still too afraid to say anything. 

"Snow White's nice, but she doesn't like me for me. You know about the blessing…curse, don't you?"

I nodded.

"I'm afraid of that happening. A fairy's wish always comes true, and I don't want it to. I was hoping that I would be able to break this with you…someday, anyway. Gwen, tell me the truth now, if you weren't before. Do you like me?"

I snorted. Ack! Why? "Yeah, I like you." Stop rolling, eyes! Stop!

Andrew looked angry, he frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah," I said again. Stop it! Stop it! Be sincere! "_I_ like _you_." My eyes rolled again. I could have cried.

Andrew stood up and kicked a pinecone so hard that it flew out into the lake and landed with a plunk in the water. "You could have least said you didn't, instead of acting like such a snob about it." Nice selection of words, I'm glad he didn't call me the b-word, which would have probably caused me to slap him (even though I was being one. But not on my own will!). "We're over, if we were ever anything to start with. Snow White is probably waiting for me to take her home. Goodbye, Gwen. Have a nice life."

He walked off before I could think of anything to say that could make it sound like I was telling the truth, no matter how my voice sounded. But I couldn't think of anything anyway. "Have a nice life, too," I mumbled. I meant it to sound sad, but it sounded more like a bitter sentiment than anything. I watched his back until he disappeared through the trees. 

I slammed my fists onto the ground. Not only was I Sheepless, I had lost a handsome, sweet guy who actually _liked_ me. 

Damn you, fairies! 

§

I could barely hold back the tears as I walked back home to my trailer. I would have burst into sobs right in the middle of the road, but I decided that wouldn't be the best thing to do in front of several flimsy walled houses. I didn't need to lose my dignity as a third sacrifice. 

I set my "Gwen is #1" giant foam finger down on the table and collapsed onto the couch, leaning against the armrest with my hands on my stomach. The humiliating threat of crying turned into frustration. 

"Life is wonderful," I muttered, turning to face the back of the couch and burying my face in the musty velvet. 

"Isn't it, though?" Mirror chirped. "Don't worry, Gwen. I know what happened. You don't have to annoy me with your sarcasm by explaining it to me."

"Well, aren't you fortunate?"

He grinned a bit, nodding. "Aren't you?" 

"Yes, yes I am. I just love talking like this _so_ much. Especially since Andrew is very happy with me right now." 

"I said you didn't have to explain it to me." Mirror disappeared and I rolled my eyes. 

Then I thought of something. "Mirror." 

He reappeared, frowning. "Yes?"

"One." Pause. "Word." Pause. "Sentences." Pause. "Can't." Pause. "Be." Pause. "Sarcastic." 

"But they're just as annoying." 

I slammed my fist on the couch in frustration. 

"Wait, I have a heroic plan." 

I looked over at him, he was smiling proudly. 

"What?" 

"Save Sheep." 

I raised my eyebrows. 

"Yes, save Sheep. They're not going to lift it from you if you actually _ask_. They'll just tell you that you will learn to appreciate your gift. And my plan is noble enough, you said that Mary was a brat. You would be saving Sheep's sanity, if the thing ever had a brain to begin with. And, if you just happen to casually mention your theft to the fairies…" 

"Right, couldn't I just _mention_ that I did it without _actually_ doing it?" 

"They can tell when you're lying." Mirror frowned. "And just…stop talking." 

I scowled at him. 

"Like I said, they can tell when you're lying. And it's already hard enough to interpret what you're trying to truly say in the first place. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Get your sheep back, and possibly get your "blessing" lifted." 

"And if they _don't_?" 

"Then you'll get a real blessing that they refer to as a "curse", and you'll at least be a little better off." 

I sighed, warding off a yawn. "Like _I'm_ not tired." 

"Go to bed," mirror commanded. "I'm sick of hearing your voice, anyway." 

I grunted and got up from the couch, wandering irresolutely toward my bedroom. 

Truthfully, he wasn't the only one sick of hearing it. I wanted to shoot myself. 

§

"This is just great," I muttered, pushing my plaited braids into the black ski cap, trying not to get any of the black goop smeared under my eyes on my hands. 

"Hurry, hurry, don't be late!"

I stared at mirror who was smiling pompously.

"I thought you stopped rhyming."

"Couldn't help myself." He nodded toward the door. "But really, go now. Mary's getting restless."

The mask dissipated and the haze cleared, sharpening into an image of a small, chubby girl on the couch and piled under blankets, her blonde curls in disarray, tossing a bit and throwing her sheets askew. Great, she slept in the living room. This would make it even worse. 

"All right, I'm going."

"Au revoir, mon amour."

"Yeah…you too." I shut the door quietly behind me and stood on my porch, a bit dazed. What on earth was I doing? It was the middle of the night, I was outside in the pitch dark wearing all black, and I was on a mission to steal a sheep from a little girl. 

Trailer parks must really do things to you. 

My black slippers made barely any sound in the gravel (though my feet were becoming a little sore) and my mind let the roads know I wanted to go to Mary's house. They centered me in a sort of cul-de-sac, and I stood in the middle, wondering which door to go through. There were four trailers, all with siding the same dull gray, dirty windows, brass on the doorknobs and knockers rusting. 

Three mice scurried past and bumped into my ankle. I almost gave a squeal but held it in. 

"Hey, watch where you're going." 

"Yeah…" 

I looked down. The three brown little creatures were staring up at me, well, more to my side, and swaying like they were on a boat. Their eyes that must have once been a deep, beady black, but were now clouded over with a white film, glowing like a mist in faint moonlight. 

"I'm…sorry…" I whispered, the quiet tone edging the sarcasm out of my voice. "I'm _lost_." I coughed. "Lost... I'm trying to find my way back home." 

"Well, who are you? Can't tell you where you live if I don't know who ya are." 

"Um…" I coughed again, adding a tiny lisp to my voice. This was more difficult than I thought it would be. Where's my Sheep? "My name is Mary."

"Oooh," one of the mice said, slapping one of the other's on the shoulder. "That little blonde, eh? What'd I tell you, Henry? She'd never be able to find her way out of a paper bag." 

I tapped my foot, waiting.

"Well, _sweetheart_," one of them said in mock niceness. "Your house is right over there. We were just there." He pointed toward once that had a bundle of hay barely lit on the porch, and the grass was chewed down almost to the roots. Of course…I didn't even think of looking for that. Sheep liked hay and grass. And I'd been feeding him cat food all this time… 

"_Thanks_," I said, walking away. 

"Stupid _and_ rude," I heard one of them say as I approached the porch. I ignored them and stepped gingerly past the scattered toys and food remains. 

Now for a way to get in. 

I wondered if her parents were home, there was no car parked in the driveway. Did she even have any parents? I hadn't seen anyone at the barbeque that seemed to have any control over her at all. Perhaps an orphan? Maybe she had her own fairy godmother? Well, who cared right now? She was a brat. I wanted my sheep back. 

The door was unlocked! What the heck? I had only tried the knob in a mere attempt to know what my options were. I hadn't expected for it be open. Finally, a bit of luck! 

It swung open without a sound. I found myself in a trailer that was almost identical to my own, except for the shades of red it was done in shades of light pink. Every piece of furniture, every decoration (though Mirror was absent), was exactly the same as mine except for the change of color. 

Well, this made it easy. 

And sure enough, there on the couch sat Mary, blonde curls in disarray, sheets in a twisted pile on the ground. I'd need to find Sheep and get out of here fast before she woke up to retrieve them. 

It smelled horrible. Apparently, Mary didn't have a litter box for Sheep to use so she just let him go around the house. This became apparent with the…thing sticking to the bottom of my slipper.

Ugh.

I walked as carefully as I could (without groaning in disgust) in a circle around the couch, holding my breath as I passed in front of Mary. No sheep. From this I passed into the kitchen, searched in the drawers of the island, looked under the table, rocked the chairs, but he wasn't in the kitchen. I then went quietly into the bathroom, wondering if he had found another enemy in Mary's tub faucet. 

"Orcas and blue," I heard her mumble from the couch. Not only was she annoying and restless, she talked in her sleep. I had pity for whatever fool decided to marry her. Well, I guess there's someone for everyone…

He wasn't in the tub, the sink, or stuck in the bathroom cupboards. I was becoming desperate. He had to be here _somewhere_. There was…evidence of him all over the place. 

Only one place left…the bedroom. 

I gazed over at Mary as I made my way from the bathroom down the hall to the single bedroom. She was still turning, muttering something new about dancing flamingos. 

I put my hand on the rusty brass doorknob and turned. 

I had been expecting the bedroom to be very similar to mine, so I was shocked when I opened the door and found them to be nothing at all alike. The walls were pasted with peeling flowered wallpaper, and hung watercolor paintings of petunias and what appeared to be animals. A twin bed devoid of blankets was shoved in the corner, protected by a white wooden nightstand topped with a rearing horse lamp. An empty bookshelf was pushed up against the wall, wobbly with one leg shorter than the others. I felt kind of sorry for the girl, she didn't live very well. 

But…on second though…if as a little girl she could afford to live here, she must have enough money to keep good care of her stuff. Maybe she was lazy? I really didn't blame her, she was a little girl. What little girl wanted to take care of herself?

My confused thoughts were interrupted when I heard a hacking sound coming from the closet. 

SHEEP!

I slid the closet doors open and there was sheep, standing in front of me, smiling and wagging his tale.

"SHEEP!" I exclaimed without thinking.

Oh crap…

I heard a loud coughing coming from the living room, followed by a confused groan mixed with a word that sounded like "Whatssat?"

Uh oh…

I grabbed Sheep by the collar and led him across the room to her bed. There wasn't enough space for both of us under there. In a frenzy, I ran back to the closet door and jerked it open, and the door came off of its panel and fell to the floor with a loud thunk.

Heavy footsteps were echoing down the hall, slowly approaching the bedroom door… 

The window…it was open, and it was small, but we might be able to fit through it. I sprinted back to the bed and picked up Sheep with a groan. Ugh, he had gotten awfully heavy. Pressing my legs against the footboard of the bed, I shoved him halfway into the window, hoping he would get his hooves on the edge to jump down and not hurt himself. But of course, he didn't get the hint, and I accidentally shoved him in a bit too far.

I heard him bleating happily, probably amused at the current situation, and his tail wagged in my face. I gave him another push, but he didn't budge. I grabbed his feet, but he made a frustrated sound and pulled them out of my grasp. His tail wagged in my face. I felt a grain of wool go up my nose.

And I sneezed.

"_What are you doing in my room_?"

Uh oh…

My finger under my nose to keep it from running, I turned around slowly and grinned…uh…sheepishly. Mary stood in the doorway, her pink pajamas wrinkled, her blonde curls a fuzzy halo around her head. Her fists rested on her unformed hips, her eyebrows lowered to rest atop her eyelashes.

"Hi," I said curtly. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and Sheep's tail swiftly running back and forth into my back.

"And why are you stealing Lamb?" 

Could I please be sincere? Please? This once?

I rolled my eyes. "Because I thought he would make a nice doorstop. I really enjoy the scent of sheep manure whenever I step into my house."

"Do you want him back that badly?" Mary replied, eyebrows still lowered, pinches of pink appearing on her cheeks. 

"Curse…" I said, not allowing my voice to change in tone. 

"Ah…" She paused. "I understand." The tone of her voice and the look in her eyes seemed like she was doing anything _but_ understanding. 

I couldn't help it, it just slipped out. "You just live so _great_…" 

She sniffed. "I only live away from my parents while I'm going to school, and Robin Hood comes in once a week and cleans. He's my cousin, and my guarding thing during the school year."

So, she was a pig. She even had someone to clean for her, but she managed to completely total the house during the week. Poor Robin wasn't going to be happy when he came in next time. 

"Well…" I started to say again.

"Shut up," she said, mouth working into a pucker. "If you want Lamb, stop talking." 

Good deal.

She just stood for a minute in the doorway, arms crossed and tapping a foot. She _had_ told me to stop talking…

"Oh," she said, suddenly realizing the silence. "You can have Lamb." 

"What?" I said in surprise. 

"Yeah." Her arms dropped to her sides. "It's starting to smell in here, and he kept coughing up hairballs on my bed. Just take him." 

"Uh…okay…" I grabbed Sheep by the back hooves and gave him a pull before he could slip them out of my grasp. He came out of the window and plopped onto the soft bed with an angry bleat. "Thanks." I had managed to say it sincerely, instead of like I had a stick shoved up my butt. I was improving. 

"Yeah…" She was silent for a minute, scratching one of her ears with enthusiasm. Finally, she said, "Uh…can you guys leave now? I want to go back to sleep." 

"Oh…right." 

Not able to wipe the smile off my face, I lead Sheep to the front door and waved a cheerful goodbye. Mary just frowned at me slammed the door in my face. 

It was a good night. 

Sheep trotted next to me as I began to walk home. Phase one of the plan was done, now I had to figure out a way to safely let the fairies know that I had stolen Sheep (they didn't need to know that I had actually failed, and he had been given back to me, instead), when I found out that I was standing right in front of the smoking trailer. The roads must have misread my thoughts and placed me here instead of back at my home. 

The lights were on. 

A flash of red suddenly blinded me and I put my arm in front of my face to protect my vision. I felt a stiff hand drag my arm down to my side and I saw the red fairy standing in front of me, skin glowing an iridescent crimson, shoulders slumped, eyebrows arched angrily, and hands in little fists at her side. 

"GWEN KINK!" she exclaimed so loudly I could almost feel the earth shake under my feet. I looked around nervously, expecting to see the windows in the other trailers around me lighten, but they remained black. "HOW DARE YOU!"

"I…I…" I began to stutter, genuinely scared. Sheep gave a startled bleat and ran off, I hoped to my trailer.

"SILENCE! HOW DARE YOU STEAL A PET FROM A LITTLE GIRL?" 

I decided to refrain from saying that the little girl had taken the pet from me, first. 

The fairy stamped her foot, then looked beside me, a little bewildered. "Damn, he's gone." She sniffed and lifted her chin in a pompous fashion. "Well, that doesn't matter. It's _you_, blasted girl, that committed the crime. And it's _you_ who must pay." 

Yay! 

"I hope you used you gift well for your songs in the past few days, because _now_ I remove it from you!" 

She wiggled her fingers and a feeling like ice crawled up my body. I shivered. She suddenly smiled warmly. "Have a good night." 

Before I could say a word, she was gone. 

"Hm," I shrugged my shoulders. "All right." 

I knew what had to be done now. Not even allowing myself to think for another second, in case I tried to talk myself out of it, I sprinted for Andrew's office. What had to be done had to be done. And that had to be done now, before his blessing, his curse, his destiny, would come true.

§

"Hi," I said, a little stunned, trying to catch my breath and trying to not let him know that I had run here. The roads had apparently got bored and decided to have fun with me, so it had taken longer to get here than usual, and the cramp in my side was growing more painful with each breath. I didn't have to ask why he was at his office so late, looking so tired but always so gorgeous. He held a thick pile of tax forms in his left hand. 

He also looked surprised, a little angry, and just a tiny bit frustrated. He leaned against the doorframe, looking like he was suppressing a yawn. "May I help you, Ms. Kink?" 

"I like you," I said quickly, before I even had time to think. I had said it! Ha! "I like you. A lot. Before…the stupid fairies cursed me…I'll explain more later…but…I really like you. Probably even love…"

I caught myself off guard by leaning over and kissing him, right on the lips, and pulling away almost immediately as if he was some lowly toad.

He broke into a beautiful smile, standing up straight in the doorway, towering above me as a chestnut wave fell in front of his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I nodded deeply, suddenly reminding myself of a pigeon. "I'm stupid. You should know that. I have a chronic disorder of…"

His tax forms had fluttered to the ground. I only had time to register the feeling of his arms around my waist when his lips had pressed to mine. I slung my arms around his neck and fell deep into the kiss, lost. 

Hallelujah…

He broke away after what couldn't be any sooner than two minutes, but what only felt like a few seconds. He was frowning.

Crap, what had I done now?

"Gwen, there's something I have to tell you."

Uh oh.

"What is it, Andrew?" I said, welcoming his first…um…middle name back into my vocabulary. 

"Gwen…" He took a deep breath and released me. "I…" He turned so I could only see his back. A very well-formed back. "Snow White and I were married yesterday afternoon." 

I no longer had time to look at his well-formed back. I was running back to my trailer, my eyes stinging, my cramp increasing in pain and my breath ragged. I flung open the door and slammed it, sinking back against it to a sitting position on the ground. Sheep came over and laid down by my feet, immediately falling asleep. I didn't need to ask how he had gotten in. I didn't even care anymore. 

"Gwen?" Mirror inquired gently from the wall.

I couldn't answer. I buried my face in my hands and cried for the first time in years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please review!


	7. What's forgiveness?

**A/N: Here we are! The second to last chapter in this story! Kind of sad, isn't it? Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy this momentous chapter! And don't forget to check out the trailer and tell me what you think! ( or wonk.vze.com under art and trailers).**

Chapter Seven

The End is Near

"What is wrong with me?" I inquired of the mirror, moving to the second layer of a new box of chocolates, the afternoon after that horrible, fateful night. I was starting to feel sick, and really fat, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

"I really don't know," he replied with a drawn out sigh. "I don't understand. If I had a penis, I'd be all over you."

"Shut up," I said, trying to hide my smile by throwing a (appropriately named) throw pillow at him. I missed.

"You know," he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Depressed people usually prefer to be depressed because they feel they have a right to be so. You could stop at any time, you just don't want to."

"Yeah, probably." I said, beginning to empty the layer of chocolates I was currently working on. "But I think you should give me time. I have just lost the love of my life." 

"Yes, things like that seem to happen a lot around here." Mirror rolled his eyes. "Welcome to Fairyland, Gwen." 

"I think the sign already did a fine job of welcoming me here, thank you," I sniffed. "I want to leave."

"But where would you go?"

"I don't know."

I was still in my pajama pants and a tank top, chocolate wrappers scattered around my couch, and a few books remained untouched on the coffee table. I put the rest of the chocolates down, trying to will myself to not eat the rest, and picked up another tissue, the last one in the box. I rubbed it across my salted cheeks, under my eyes and nose. 

"This really sucks."

He didn't reply, and we sat in silence a little while. Ugh, so much chocolate… 

Chimes suddenly rang through the house, a tinkling sound so lighthearted it made me want to puke. Especially since it meant one thing: someone was here. 

Ready to tell whomever it was off, I swung open the door in an embarrassed fury. 

"_Look_, I did not…" I stopped, words cut short by the last person I expected to see in front of me. Well, if it wasn't Mr. Married himself, looking hot but also completely unavailable. 

"Hi, Gwen," Andrew said meekly, extending forward a bouquet of tropical flowers…my favorites…like a peace offering. 

I leaned against my doorpost, not at all caring that I was in my pajamas and all disheveled, still stinking of failure and bad luck. "May I help you Mr. Marr…Charming?" 

"I would like to explain," he replied, prompting me to take the flowers. 

I tried to ignore them, even though the sweet scents were plucking at my senses. "I don't think you have anything to explain," I argued, getting ready to shove the door shut. But he stopped it with his other hand, swiftly taking a step inside and overwhelming me with his height and…hotness. 

"Give me a chance," he pleaded, setting the pretty flowers down on my coffee table. 

I scooped them up in my hands and held them against my chest. If he wasn't going to take them back, I might as well enjoy them. 

He continued. "Didn't I give you a second chance a few times? Or is this all some sick game of yours? Is it all planned? Are you a fairy's trick to make me go off and marry a woman who's obsessed with dwarves?"

"Too many questions. And _no_, this is not some game or a psychotic fairy's conspiracy" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. But he did have a point, he had forgiven me quite a few times, both when I didn't tell him I liked him when I should have, looking like I was leading him on without any good intentions, and then when I mocked him on accident because of the stupid curse-of that he still didn't know the full details. 

"Tell you what," he proposed, eyes lingering on the flowers pressed against me. "Why don't we go on a walk through the park…not this one, the park with actual trees, and we can talk. You don't even have to talk at all if you don't want to. And you can bring your…Sheep." 

I sighed, blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears. He just didn't get it. It wasn't acceptable for a married man to walk through a park with a woman with whom he's rumored to be romantically connected, unless it's his wife. Especially when he's only been married for two days. I felt a sense of pity for Snow White, her husband wasn't doing a very good job of staying monogamous. 

"You don't understand," I replied with a weepy sigh. "We can't." 

"Yes, we can. Let me explain, and I promise, if you listen, that everything will be all right." 

Should I trust his promise? After an inner battle, from which I was probably making odd facial expressions as Andrew was looking at me weird, I decided on an answer. 

"Okay," I finally said. "But no holding hands, no romantic involvement, no anything that would make it look like we're more than acquaintances." 

For some reason I was far from understanding, he smiled. "I would never dream of asking that of you."

"All right," I said angrily, perturbed by the smile, and ushered him inside. I motioned him to sit on the couch. Married man sitting on my couch…while I secretly grabbed my wand and headed for the bathroom.

"Hold on for a few minutes, I just have to clean up," I said quickly, not able to smooth the remaining hurt out of my voice. Before I closed the door behind me, I mouthed to the mirror, _not a word_.

I turned the water on, for the first time since I moved in, and it came out smoothly and it was even clear. I was somewhat surprised. I contemplated taking a shower, just to make the married man in my living room wait longer, but I decided I didn't really have the patience to submerge myself into the water at the moment, so I quickly turned the nozzle back to the right and the flow stopped. Instead, I settled on letting my hair hang naturally (cleaning myself with a flick of the wand), and changing into the clothes I had set out for myself the day before, when I hadn't intended to stay in my pajamas all day. I quickly pulled the black t-shirt (an appropriate color) over my head and reached for my makeup bag, but pulled my hand away. There was no need to try to impress anyone now. I concealed the wand in my pocket, it was thin enough so that if I put my hand on my side, I couldn't even feel it.

I came out of the bathroom slowly, wondering if I was doing the right thing by agreeing to go on a walk with him. So, he had given me my chances before, but I hadn't gone off and _married_ anyone before, either. 

"Are you ready?" He was up from the couch, leaning against the wall next to the mirror, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. The mask had disappeared, replaced by the usual, mystical swirling mist. I wondered if anything had been said, I silently hoped not. 

"Almost," I quietly replied, bending for Sheep's leash. "Hold on." I quickly fastened the clip to Sheep's collar, noticing that he had smudged of chocolate smeared across his face, and my box of chocolates was now empty. Dang thing had eaten them all. Sensing me frustration, he led me out the front door in my silent, pleading urgings to get away from the man to my side. Andrew followed me, catching up to walk by my side as we strode to the entrance of the trailer park, Sheep straining at his leash as a pigeon waddled by.

"Gwen, I…"

"Wait for the city park," I interrupted, glancing around over my shoulders. "I'd rather get away from here before we start talking. I think I've already been labeled cheap by the entire trailer park, I don't need to start being called a home-wrecker, too." 

"You're not cheap at all," he said quietly, beginning to continue, but I shot him a foreboding look and he became silent again.

It was about a ten minute walk to the city park, ten awkward minutes too long, and I welcomed the beautiful green trees and grass, the fresh, crisp air devoid of fumes and fairy dust. It had been a while before I'd seen a place this…_alive_. 

"It's nice, isn't it?" he said. This time I couldn't shoot him down, because we were actually at the park. I missed the excuse.

I settled on an unenthused "yeah". 

"You ran away too soon, last night," he added as we passed a few uniformed magi-officers, in the area for who-knew-what. Two of them were talking casually by a large maple tree, looking a bit bored.

"That's good to know," I said. "So I would have ran away, anyway, no matter if it was later." 

"No, that's not what I meant." Andrew sighed, and Sheep decided to randomly plunge into a little-used trail. I decided to follow him. Might as well, it was too difficult to drag him back onto the dirt path. "Gwen," he continued. "You didn't let me finish. I married Snow White…" 

"Yes," I interrupted, annoyed, wondering if he had taken me out here just to rub it in. "I believe we've already established that."

"Gwen!" He was sounding a bit perturbed himself, though I didn't believe he had a right to. "Let me finish. Anyway, you know about the blessing, you said so yourself. And you know that there's no way to be released from a blessing, or a curse, unless the fairy that put it upon you takes it away."

"Yeah, I figured." Sheep stopped suddenly in front of me, becoming particularly interested in a piece of grass, and I bumped into him. Andrew, who had been walking slightly behind me on the narrow trail, in turn bumped into my side and I flinched from his contact. Sheep bleated happily at his discovery. 

"Well, I thought I'd get it over with," Andrew sighed with a hint of finality. 

"That doesn't help our case any." I stared at my pet, refusing to meet Andrew's gaze or even his big toe. He was completely out of my line of sight. 

"But it does," he replied. "I'd rather have the big bumps in the beginning of a relationship than later, when they're harder to smooth out." 

"I don't know what relationship you speak of." I nudged Sheep onward, and begrudgingly obliged. 

"Gwen, don't do this." He caught me by the arm, but I hastily pulled it away. 

"Don't do what?" I stopped, turned and was jerked backward by the pet that wanted to continue forward. "Whatever I'm doing, I think I have to perfect right to be doing it, whether you say so or not."

"Gwen, I want this to work." 

"Forget it," I replied, my mouth drawn as I finally dared to meet his hazel eyes, which I had once found so beautiful. They still held their beauty, but I knew that those eyes could never be there staring into mine when I would wake up in the morning, the last thing I would see before I went to sleep at night. "I don't associate with married men." 

I began to turn back around, but Andrew again caught my arm and didn't let me pull away. 

"I'm not married." 

"Don't pull this crap with me!" I exclaimed, fighting the urge to loop Sheep's leash around Andrew's neck. "I'm not stupid."

"I know."

"Then what am I?"

"You're amazing."

He had caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly. "If I'm so amazing, don't lie to me." 

"I'm not lying." 

"Prove it." 

He held up his left hand, which was devoid of any ring, wedding or otherwise. Still, that was no proof.

"I married her," he said calmly, his hand inching toward mine while I tried to pull mine away. "And I divorced her three hours later. She didn't object, she was more than happy to go back home to her dwarves. We weren't even married for the night. I didn't even _kiss_ her."

I stared at him for a minute, mouth hanging slightly ajar. The silence was overtaken by the gross sound of Sheep chewing noisily on a new patch of grass. I couldn't help but laugh, a slightly bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"You're kidding me."

"No." His pensive look was overtaken by a grin of relief. "I'm serious. You're an odd girl, Gwen, when you freaked out by the lake I thought you were just having an episode, and you would get over it. I mean, I was angry at you, and that's one of the things that kind of pushed the wedding forward." He took a long, drawn out breath. "But I still had hope, hope for us. And I thought that marrying Snow White and then divorcing her would be more acceptable then when…if…we got into our own relationship and the curse came along to ruin it." 

He had a point. 

And I believed him. 

Before I could reply, Sheep had plowed in the opposite direction from where we were going and was waddling quickly back to the dirt road. I shrugged at Andrew and we followed along in silence. 

Then he took my hand, and I didn't pull it away. 

"It's all right," I whispered, leaning in toward him as we walked quickly behind me chronically dumb pet. "It's all right, Andrew. Everything will be all right." 

I felt his lips on the back of my hand. They felt odd, foreign. 

"Are you okay with dating a divorced man?" he whispered into my ear, the tickle of his breath on my neck seeming like something I had felt while deeply lost in an old romance movie. 

"Yes," I answered. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago I had hated him, had cringed at his touch. Now, it seemed like there was nothing more wonderful in the world than his hand in mine. I felt dizzy, ungrounded, tossed about on a dingy in a wild storm or something like that. It didn't feel like it was happening to me. "But it feels weird." 

I heard him chuckle and he let go of my hand, moving his to circle my waist and rest on my hip. 

"I believe you," he said, easing up from his whisper.

"You believe me about what?"

"That everything will be all right," he replied with a steady, gorgeous grin. 

We reached the road in sort of an odd, puzzling silence. I still felt detached, part of an old moving picture show, watching so intently that I felt I had become part of it, the mild looking girl that the powerful, handsome man fell for. It was unreal.

We were both smiling.

We had reached the oak tree, where the two officers still stood, lazing dully against the tree, when Andrew caught both of my hands and pulled me to face him. Sheep lingered in between our feet, threatening to trip us if we tried anything affectionate. I could see the two officers out of the corner of my eye, watching with amusement as they waited for love show that they apparently thought would happen soon.

"Gwen, there's something I want to ask you," Andrew said quietly, his signature dark waves falling in front of his eyes. My eyes now…

Then I heard a retching sound.

"Oh no…" I moaned, looking down. The box of chocolates had apparently gotten to Sheep's stomach, and he had thrown up all over Andrew's nice, formerly shiny shoes. "Oh no," I moaned again. "Andrew, I'm so sorry."

He looked a bit pale. "Please…please clean it up. I'm not comfortable…" 

Oh great. This was like one of those horror date moments in teen magazines, except for me throwing up on my date, my pet sheep had, and not only was it gross, but the boy was also mortified of puke.

Life is wonderful.

I remembered that I had put the wand in my pocket with widening eyes. The wand! I could clean off his shoes!

"Hold on," I said steadily as his face became steadily greener. "I can clean it up. Just a second."

I pulled my wand out of my pocket and Andrew's eyes became wide. "Gwen, don't!" 

Two loud voices broke our mortifying moment, making it more mortifying by the minute. "FREEZE! Drop the weapon and don't move!" 

"Weapon?"

"Drop the wand, Gwen," Andrew said out of the corner of his mouth, raising his arms in the air. I kept the wand in my grasp but lifted my arms, too, hoping that would at least pacify them. Sheep sat by our feet, looking a bit confused. 

"What's going on?" I asked, a bit dazed. The two officers, one tall and red-headed, the other stocky and balding, approached us. One was talking loudly, and the other came around behind us. My hands floated down behind my back, as if pulled by invisible hands, and I felt my wrists lock together without the help of cold metal, the wand left between my index finger and thumb. Not like it would help, I had no idea how to undo magical handcuffs.

"You are under arrest in violation of Law #3198. Under no such circumstances should unauthorized wands purchased by a citizen be displayed in public or private, sold, bought, borrowed, or made, under punishment by law."

"But I didn't know…"

"Silence," the red-headed man held out his hand, and my mouth shut. "Take them both down for questioning, the guy's an accomplice. Might as well take the mutt, too."

I sensed he meant Sheep.

I felt the ground lurch underneath me, and I blinked, fortunately still able to feel Andrew's presence beside me and Sheep pressing against me ankle. The clear blue skies and tall green trees had disappeared, replaced by the dingy gray walls of a jail cell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Please review (and don't forget to check out the trailer! wonk.vze.com) 


	8. From Jail Cells to Glass Walls

**I lied! Actually, I didn't mean to. I really did mean this to be the last chapter. But I thought it was too short, and it needed to have more in it than just the whole Andrew/Gwen conflict, no matter how fun that is. But I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope there will be quite a few more to come!**

Chapter Eight

What a mess.

No, I wasn't referring to the puke that had previously soaked my love's shoes (ew), or the condition of the floor under our feet. We were in jail. It was wonderful how things always seemed to turn out this way. 

I had informed the officers that I only used the wands as a cleaning agent, and that I was new to the area and wasn't aware that they were illegal (okay, I had an inkling, but I didn't _know_). I also had told them that I bought them from the three fairies in my neighborhood after they advertised them in the dust on my coffee table. They had left us to go check out their trailer. At least they had left us alone. 

We were in jail, and yet all I could see and pay attention to was Andrew, and he was looking tired and disheveled, not in the least bit interested in anything that I would have to say. But even in that, the gray walls around him faded away, the torchlight seeming almost romantic, the dingy smell of the magic cell began to smell of lilacs, roses, and honeysuckle. 

"I'm sorry," I moaned, shoving my face into my hands. "Things like this just happen to me. Always. I didn't know…"

"Yes, Gwen, I know." His voice wasn't in the least bit chiding, but gentle. I could feel his presence next to me much as I could feel Sheep laying asleep on the floor, squishing my foot. 

We remained in silence for a few minutes, though not awkwardly, while I focused on the sound of his breathing. I closed my eyes but tried to keep my head from lolling back on the dirty wall that probably hadn't been cleaned in centuries. He took my hand and I grasped it probably a little too hard. It seemed like the only thing solid at the moment. 

The heavy wooden door swung open with a loud groan. In walked the police officers that had arrested us, the tall redhead and the balding munchkin. They looked tired and they were sprinkled with a nice coat of purple glitter.

"You're free to go," the redhead said with a sigh. "But we'll need you to testify against the fairies in court, if you're able."

I looked over at Andrew and he nodded. "Yes," I replied. "We'll do that." 

"All right." A scroll appeared in his hand, bifocals rested on his nose, and he read aloud. "I have your address, though not a phone number…" 

"Phones don't work there." 

"I know. And your full name. Kink is an interesting…" 

"I know," I interrupted. "Please, don't elaborate." 

I saw him smile a bit, and he stepped away from the door. I gave Sheep a gentle nudge with the foot he was laying on and he jumped up with a start. Andrew led me out of the cell and we blinked in the dazzling sunlight streaming through medieval styled windows. 

"In case you didn't catch it," the officer called after us. "My name is Officer Gundy. I'll be dropping off court notices pretty soon, so look out for me." 

I swear he winked. 

I'm not quite sure how I got home, that memory seemed to have gone astray, but I remember Andrew's amused goodnight kiss quite well. Not like kissing him could ever leave my memories. Or my thoughts, for that matter. 

I ignored the Mirror's eager plague of question and went straight to my bedroom. Shutting out the remaining rays of light as the sun fell over the horizon, I collapsed on my bed and fell into the deepest sleep I'd had in a decade. 

§

"Something's missing."

"Is it now?" Mirror looked off to the side, to the kitchen, and his cheeks turned a bit pink. I'd have to explore this later.

"I mean…not a thing. But…I feel odd."

"Oh." The rouge disappeared. "Why?"

"I think…I don't know. The challenge is gone. It's not that thrilling anymore."

It was only the next morning, and I was already bored. I hadn't even seen him since the day before, when we had spent the afternoon in jail.

And relationships _bored_ me? I had already played guitar in front of tons of people, discussed Harry Potter over hot chocolate, been cursed, and gone to jail for him. Is this was boring, how would I survive getting married, if anyone was ever insane enough to marry me? 

"You've been officially dating for one day." Mirror rolled his eyes and I pressed back into the couch, eyebrows lowered. "Give it a chance."

"Yeah, I guess…"

The doorbell rang. I couldn't help but sigh, the noise was really beginning to annoy me. Especially since I just wanted to be left alone for a little while, to think things over. 

Trailer parks really _do_ do things to you! I was thinking about breaking up with a guy because the challenge was over! 

ARGH!

But my boredom was soon quenched by the appearance of a new stalker on my porch. 

There stood Robin Hood, in his green tights and feathered baseball cap, this time featuring the Seattle Mariners, the navy blue and turqouise clashing horribly with his bright green outfit. 

"Hello, Robin," I said with a sigh. "May I help you?" 

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me, tonight?" he asked quickly, his eyes flicking nervously around. "I heard that Snow White and Mr. Charming were married…so you'd be available now."

I stared at him with lowered eyelids. "Really." 

"Yes, yes." He bobbed his head. 

"Snow White and Mr. Charming are not married anymore," I replied, getting ready to shut the door. 

I stopped it from slamming all the way when I heard Robin Hood's hysteric laughter. 

"Are you joking? You _are_ kidding me!" More laughter. I was beginning to have less and less control over violent action toward this man, his annoyance was grating my self-control thin.

More laughter. "That's _all_ she talks about! How pretty her dress was, how good she smelled at the wedding, how lovely her hair was…it used to be all dwarves!" 

I believed Andrew. And so what if she was obsessed with the wedding, now? That was over. 

"So I suggest," he said with a gentle sniff, wiping the wetness from his eyes. "That you tear yourself away from your little fantasy and date a _real_ man." 

This time there was no hesitation. I slammed the door, but not before closing his hand against the doorframe. I smiled smugly as I heard his howl of pain and angry muttering trial away from my porch and into the muggy afternoon. 

"Now what?" Mirror asked, his voice dense and drawn out. 

I couldn't help but harbor an overwhelming sense of boredom. "I have no clue." 

I had no doubt that Robin would be back. At least there was a bit of a challenge, one that would always keep coming back.

§

I sat at Andrew's long dining room table, mug of hot chocolate in my hand as I gazed up at the glass ceiling with great awe. I had figured he was rich, but I hadn't figured that he was _this_ rich. His home, more of a palace than anything, was absolutely huge. It reminded me of the cathedrals I had visited on my trip to England in high school, not the outside but the inside. Approaching the house, all you could see was a white marble entrance with a heavy wooden door, the rest surrounded by large trees. Entrances can be deceiving. Inside it held a deal of fascination for me: thick marble floors, sparkling white walls, stained glass, it even had _domes_ for goodness sake. The only things missing where the pews, the visiting fees, and the dead people.

The high ceiling of the dining room and the wide west wall were made completely of sparkling glass. The wall blended into the ceiling with a graceful curve, while the marble adjacent walls were gilded in a frame of what looked like pure silver. The full moon was strung high above us, but not so bright as to overpower the stars, the single candle flames in the limitless black sky. West of the house, displayed by the glass, was a magnificent forest with tall reaching trees, chocolate brown trunks thicker in diameter then my arm span, boughs bent with the weight of a bounty of leaves and needles. Little stirrings of white light would periodically appear in the branches, only to disappear so soon that I couldn't be quite sure that I actually saw them. The glow of navy and crystal blues showed that a creek ran just behind the trees, winding through the river rocks and cascading deep into the woods.

Now I knew what it meant when something moved you to poetry.

"Gwen."

I continued staring at the ceiling, tilting my head to the wall, mouth gaping open. In the distance, but what also seemed so close, an owl hooted. The air in the dining room was scented with the light smell of wildflowers.

"Gwen, I invited you so we could talk, not so you could stare at the wall."

I tilted my head back down quickly, gazing at him as a blush crept to my face. "Sorry," I said. "I've just never really seen anything like it."

He smiled his wonderful smile. Even the table we sat at was huge; it looked like it could have sat an army. Or Mother Hubbard's children. Andrew chose the spots to sit on opposite sides of it, width wise. I was glad for this, so instead of being about fifty feet away from the other end I could actually hear what he was saying. 

"Yeah," he gently agreed. "I love it. Some people think no one can be comfortable living in a house this big, but I find that being face to face with nature from your breakfast spot can't be anything but comfortable."

"Yes, it's beautiful." My eyes wandered from his face back to the trees. I couldn't really help it. They were just so…enchanting.

"Stop that."

I flickered back and gave him a phony smile. "Stopping."

He stared at me for a minute, tilting his head to the side, then smiled as he pushed his coffee cup aside.

"Move your hot chocolate by my cup," he commanded.

I didn't think, I just obeyed. Before I knew what was happening, he growled and lunged across the table, landing on me and knocking me to the ground.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed, suddenly afraid. My heart thudded in my chest like some…thudding thing. 

Figured, I was dating a psychopath. So, this was how my life would end, attacked by my boyfriend/werewolf who decided to attack me over coffee and hot chocolate. 

Who knew? 

But he wasn't strangling me, or biting me, he was laughing. He was on top of me, on the hard marble floor, he was heavy, and he was laughing so hard I could feel him shaking me. 

"What is so funny?" I demanded. 

"For some reason…" his voice was muffled against my shirt. "I just really wanted to do that." 

"You're insane," I said, trying to hold back the laughter myself. 

He laughed harder. "Look who's talking! The pet sheep, the _wand waving in front of the magic police_." 

"I didn't _know_…"

He calmed his laughing and smiled. Bringing his head up to face me, he kissed me for a while. 

Actually, not a while. For a long time.

Oh, lord…

Well, Andrew, now that you've gone to second base, what do you want to do next? 

"Gwen," he said, pulling away and rocking back on his knees. I shifted into a sitting position, leaning back on my arms on the marble floor. "Do you want to go to Disneyland with me?" 

I stared at him for a minute. "Doesn't that seem kind of pointless?" 

He shrugged. "It's Disneyland." 

"And still…Disneyland."

"Yeah, Disneyland."

"Okay." I said quickly, and he kissed me again on the cold marble floor. 

Hey, I guess we're going to Disneyland. 

~~~~~~~~~~

So, are you glad that I decided to continued, or not? Gotta love the randomness. Please review and tell me what you think!


	9. Honeymoon?

A/N: I'm so sorry I took so long to update this story, and I'm sorry that this chapter is short and really sucky. I've been kind of having writer's block when it comes to Gwen lately. Sorry!

Chapter Nine

"Robin, get out of my bushes."

Silence.

"I know you're there."

It was ten o'clock at night, and I was standing in my front yard facing the bushes outside my bedroom window, doing something that probably looked like I was conversing with them. I knew Robin was hidden there. Why, I didn't know. But the feather sticking randomly out of the needles gave me some sort of hint that he was hiding in there.

After I came home from hot chocolate at Andrew's house (palace) the night before, I felt like I had been seeing Robin Hood everywhere. In the birdhouses, the rickety fences, the rose bushes, the windows. I had thought my mind was playing a cruel joke on me. But the feather sticking out of the bushes confirmed my sightings.

I had a new stalker.

"Get out of my bushes!" I demanded again, giving a quick thrust of my steel-toed shoe. I heard a sorry yelp and Robin leapt out onto my yard, the bright moonlight illuminating the needles scattered in his hair, his hat gone askew, the tears in his tights and the little scratches on his arms that had probably come from a rosebush.

The jerk, making me thing I was delusional so he could…

Ugh.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, not concerned whether I woke the neighbors or not. He was still on the ground, holding his knee (okay, so I had missed the preferred spot). Either my steel-toed shiny black oxfords were doing they're job, or he was just being a drama queen. Or both.

Or maybe I didn't miss and he was just weird.

Either way, he still wouldn't get up off my lawn. I just stood there, hands on my hips, tapping my foot as I waited for him to answer.

It took a few minutes. I was about ready to kick him again when he finally made his way to his feet, panting and eyes watering, putting all his weight on the "good" knee. He smiled flakily through the tears.

"Hi."

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

"I…uh…dropped something." Even in the dim light, I could see the red flooding into his face. No one in this park, unfortunately including me, was a very good liar. 

I stuffed my hand into my pockets, glancing over at my blank bedroom window. I finally decided to humor him.

"Really?" I smiled. It hurt my face. "What did you drop?"

His head dropped to the ground, and I heard him mutter something inaudible. 

"Excuse me?"

"I said," he said clearly, bringing his head back up to face me. "That you're too good for Charming and I will follow you forever!"

Before I could do anything intelligent, including kicking him very hard in the groin, he had pranced off as fast as his green-stocking legs could carry him.

I went back into the trailer and closed the blinds on my bedroom window, but not before glancing outside to see if Robin had come back. But there was no feather sticking out of the bushes this time.

If he followed me forever…well…I had to do something about that.

§

We were leaving in three days, but I didn't have enough clothes to pack and still be able to walk around the park and trailer in a legal matter. So the suitcase remained on my floor, open but empty, and my closet remained burdened under my light wardrobe. 

A one-week trip to Disneyland with Andrew…it was hard to imagine anything better. Sheep was going to stay with Mary (who had obliged a little reluctantly), and Mirror would watch the house while I was gone. Officer Gundy had already dropped off the papers, and I informed him that we were going on vacation for a bit and he wished us a pleasant trip. It had all gone without a hitch…

Except for Robin.

I couldn't get him to _go away_.

Whenever I went out in the yard, he was watching me from the street, as still as the Peter Pan statue in Hyde Park, but not nearly as cute. I swear he didn't even blink.

I found him in the bushes outside my bedroom two more times, and he hassled me when I went out to get the mail. I managed to tell him off firmly each time (I couldn't quite resort to severe physical contact yet), but this was getting to be too much. 

I found a new salmon pink flyer in my mailbox the day before we were to leave. Instead of a barbeque, fancy letters spelled out "Penelope's Defense League, for those who just have too many suitors". I gave it a once over and stuffed it into my pocket. That might be something I could look into when I got back from the trip.

Though I was kind of afraid how much I would hurt Robin with the proper practice.

§

"Please stop squirming," Andrew sighed, his hand latching mercilessly on to mine. After he had been frisked heartily by a cheerful security guard, I couldn't blame him for being a slight bit annoyed.

I had my legs crossed, but then uncrossed them, trying to look for a comfortable position on the seat, but changed places. My heart was beating fast and my face was hot, and the concrete speeding past us as we taxied down the runway was starting to make me sick. 

"I can't help it," I breathed. "I'm kind of…afraid of flying."

"We're in first class," he said, leaning back into his plush seat. "Just relax, you're well taken care of." He reached over and pulled the window shade down, and my nausea disappeared, only for my heart to leap into my throat at once as the plane lifted off the ground. 

I spent a few painful minutes trying to get my ears to pop once we reached cruising altitude. My ears hurt so badly I felt like I was going to cry. So far, this flight had been anything but enjoyable.

"It's only a three hour flight," Andrew whispered, trying to sooth my nerves with a rub of his thumb over my palm. Despite his warm presence and the absence of the sight of the clouds below us, I was still having a hard time gaining composure. Trying to repress the jerkiness in my movements, I tried to get the armrest up into the seat, but it wouldn't budge. 

"Come on," I muttered, prying at it with whitening fingers. "Stupid thing! Go up!" 

Andrew stared at me, obviously amused. I ignored him as I continued to pry at the annoying plastic and metal contraption, suppressing the urge to break it off in my hands and whack someone with it. 

"Let me help," he commanded, reaching over.

"No…no," I said through clenched teeth. "I can do it myself."

He ignored my protest and pressed his hand against a small gray button on the side. The armrest immediately popped up and wedged itself in between our seats. 

I stared at his idle hand, muttering a simple "Oh".

He laughed and put his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into his chest. He was so strong, so warm, his embrace smoothed my frazzled nerves, his strength relaxing the clench of my throat. My eyelids floated down, and I breathed in the scent of cologne and handsome man. If they could bottle that feeling of warmth and security, of that _smell_, it would sell like wild.

"Do you feel any better?" he asked. I could feel his deep voice rumbling in his chest against my face, his left hand gently caressing my waist and coming to rest on my hip. If his goal of this trip was to seduce me, he was sure doing a good job so far.

But before my drifting thoughts could register alarm in my mind, I had fallen asleep. I was dreaming about talking to Mirror in a hotel bathroom in perfect French (even though I didn't know French), while fastening a framed picture of Sheep around my neck.

"Gwen?" Mirror said, a little before I realized it was actually Andrew and not that stupid piece of glass. I felt like I was rocking on a boat, the waves tossing me about as if I was in a storm. But Andrew was only shaking me gently, trying to rouse me from my sleep. I groaned, lifting my hand up to massage the feeling back into my face.

"We just landed," Andrew added, his voice sounding almost as groggy as I thought mine might sound if I had actually said anything. No doubt that he had fallen asleep, too. 

"Mmm…" I leaned back into my seat, tipping my head against the headrest. I yawned deeply, my skin feeling tight and dry from the recycled oxygen in the plane cabin.

"We're here," he confirmed.

"We're at…" my mind completely blanked out, and he looked at me with a puzzled and tired expression. Where was I?

"In California."

I paused, stifling a yawn. "O…oh."

I had a hard time staying awake on the taxi ride from the airport to the Hilton, passing the Disneyland sign on the way. I was so tired I could barely care whether it was "The Happiest Place on Earth" or not.

Actually, I still couldn't really see the point. I was being stalked by Robin Hood and had a pet sheep, for crying out loud. 

"Ooh," I said, glazing over the brochure. "High speed internet."

My patience was pretty much gone as we approached the front counter. A cheery woman, whose dimples, I swear, were stapled in place, greeted us with a loud "HOLA!", like we were deaf or something. Andrew took a deep breath and shot me a reproachful look before saying, 

"We have reservations…" He pushed his credit card across the desk and the woman looked at it, delighted. "For Andrew Charming and Gwen…"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I thought she was going to have a heart attack. She stared at the computer screen, pointing at what were probably our names with a fingernail manicured in a cherry red color. "Yes, yes, Andrew and Gwen Charming…"

"What?" Andrew interrupted. "No…" But the woman didn't listen. 

"Ohh…this must be your honeymoon, eh?" She winked at us, and I was trying hard to fight off asking Andrew if he would punch her. "Don't want any disturbances, I'm guessing."

Ahhh!

"No…"

She winked again. "There's no fooling me. I'm going to give you an automatic upgrade to the Honeymoon Suite, at no charge. 

"What?" From the look on Andrew's face, I believed I wouldn't even have to ask him to strike a girl. "No…"

"On us, sir." She pushed the key card across the table and smiled cheerily at us. I just stared at her, wondering how her co-workers could possibly survive working here on a daily basis. 

"But…" I started to say, but Andrew took my arm and stared leading me to the elevator, where the bellhop was ready with our luggage. 

"There's no use fighting it," he sighed. "Some people are just chronically annoying. I'll sleep on the couch or something…"

The bellhop accompanied us up to the suite and opened it for us, ushering us into a spacious living room with two sofas, a large screen television, and a kitchenette off to the side. The boy smiled as Andrew handed him a ten-dollar bill. 

"Thank you sir," he said, taking a door sign into his hand. Across the front was displayed, in obvious bright red letters "_We're on our Honeymoon: Do not disturb_". He winked at us, incredibly similar to that annoying woman downstairs. He then left, taking the sign with him. I heard the telltale swishing of plastic against the wood as the cart wheels spun down the hall.

Andrew and I stared at each other, faces turning identical shades of red.

Hmm…this was going to be interesting. 

§§§§

Sorry this was such crap. I had to force it out. You can still tell me what you think if you want to, though. So I guess...please review.


End file.
